


As Real As You Want It To Be

by alwaysbeenapirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Feels, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 92,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3150233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysbeenapirate/pseuds/alwaysbeenapirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teaching at the same school as Killian Jones was both infuriating and distracting, but when he throws Emma under the bus for the final time, she devises a plan to get back at him.  After all, nobody likes to go to a wedding alone.  Time for some CS AU fake dating :) Rated M for possible smut & sassy language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to write this :) I am a teacher actually so the situations and such in this story come from what I think could be realistic scenarios....and for some reason, I just think these two would be so funny to watch in this sort of setting. I hope you enjoy and as always, comments and thoughts are greatly appreciated!
> 
> *All rights and characters belong to the creators of OUAT.

Thank god she had made it back. A cool early spring breeze hit Emma's cheeks as she stepped out of the driver's side of her car. She pulled the sleeves of her knit cream sweater down over her hands as she wandered to the front of the diner to wait for Ruby.

Normally, Emma would not permit Ruby and her promiscuity to housesit for her under any circumstances, but she'd been coaxed - more like forced - into this three day teaching conference in New York at the last minute. Her plants weren't going to die because she had to spend half the week listening to someone drone on about something. Teacher training seminars were quite tedious and the messages they advertised seemed to all run together after a while.

She smirked silently as she remembered how she'd been coerced into this whole thing in the first place. _Stupid faculty meeting and stupid, stupid adult boys,_ she thought.

###### 

"Okay, everyone, I received a call this morning that they've opened a few additional slots to that new age teaching methods conference in New York next week," Principal Hopper announced. "Now back when the registration first opened, Anna had expressed an interest in going - quite the enthusiastic interest actually. However, she's been called back to her hometown for a week or so to deal with a family matter regarding her sister. That being said, I need to fill her spot - and fast."

Emma cringed in her chair. Teacher trainings were right up near the top on her list of dislikes. She heard a suspicious cough from a couple rows back and slowly turned to peer at the source. Stupid freaking Killian Jones. He winked at her and gave her his best overly charming smile. This was a reason - well one of the many reasons why she refused to sit by him during meetings like this. That flashy, flirty grin was just too much to deal with.

He and Robin were the absolute _worst_. Although they played coy and careless, Emma had seen the passion both men demonstrated when teaching. They were each a wealth of knowledge - particularly Killian and his confident, talented carpentry hands. She had often wondered what caused two skilled, charismatic men to act like such arrogant, noncommittal idiots at school staff meetings.

Every third Monday of the month, those two fools would show up to the required staff meeting in their best suits - clean cut pressed linen and the works. It was quite the obvious change from the two laid back, well-liked transplant teachers who on any other given day would be rocking plaid flannel shirts and suede sneakers. Well, perhaps it wasn't as obvious to everyone else as the men's - more like boys' - professional mockery seemed to charm even the crankiest colleagues. They were even able to elude their kindhearted principal who always complimented them on their nice, clearly newly acquired clothes. They both lived it up as they enchanted and took advantage of the naivety of everyone in the room - except Emma. Yet although she saw right through their facade, it didn't mean she couldn't also admire the scenery - _wait, no_ \- no, she was totally onto their dumb little game.

"Now I know it's a big commitment to go to a seminar alone for three days," Principal Hopper tried gently but in a less than convincing manner. "But it seems like such a great opportunity to grow and really incorporate some diversity into our school structure."

Emma laughed inwardly, a clever smile on her lips. She could practically feel the magnetic eyes of many faculty members moving toward those two handsome, British bastards. Any time there was a promise of "diversity changing lives", Killian and Robin found themselves right in the line of sight. Hey, that's what you get when you hop across the pond to teach in a nearly unknown, sheltered small town.

"I think Emma should go."

Emma froze in shock. Oh _hell no_ he did NOT just say that. She felt his smug, sarcastic eyes burning a hole in her head as she turned to address his backstabbing and totally unnecessary, unexpected idea. She tried to mentally prepare a rebuttal as she locked her gaze on his unwavering blue eyes.

"Wait, hold on, why would you think-"

"Well, Emma is such a cornerstone of the faculty here," Killian embellished in an endearing tone, addressing everyone. "She would get so much out of an opportunity like this. She's a person we've all looked up to when it comes to education. She would be the best equipped to go and well, we all _know_ test scores don't lie. The woman clearly knows what she's doing."

 _Test scores my ass_ , she thought. What a son of a bitch. She glared at him viciously as he simply smiled sweetly back.

"You know," Robin chimed in just for good measure. "Sounds exactly like the kind of teacher that I would love to represent our school in New York. Plus it's the Big Apple - I mean it's more like a paid vacation with all the sights and whatnot."

She was so irritated that both men were so stone cold talented at keeping a straight face. She knew this was all Killian's doing, but it wasn't like Robin minded being manipulated into such a situation at Emma's expense.

"I think that you two gentlemen make some fine points," Principal Hopper agreed excitedly. "I know you'll enjoy having such a unrivaled learning experience, Emma. You're okay to go, right?"

"Well, uh - okay, I guess," Emma stuttered as she realized refusing would be futile. "I guess I can go."

Principal Hopper nodded in appreciation and then continued onto the next item on the agenda, squinting as he viewed the bulleted topics. Emma stealthily retrieved her phone from her bag and located Killian's number. She glanced up quickly to see everyone disinterestedly engaged in some technology budget report as she opened her messaging screen.

_Emma: You know that the deepest circles of hell are reserved for betrayers and mutineers right, Jones?_

_Killian: Not that I don't love your wit but are you accusing me of piracy, love?_

She rolled her eyes at his little sentiment. He only said it when he was terrorizing her so flirtatiously. It made her fume and she could see how much he loved making her squirm. 

_Emma: Well you may as well be one with the way you sold me out back there you damn scoundrel._

_Killian: What can I say other than I'm thrilled for you to 'have such an unrivaled learning experience' ;)_

_Emma: I can think of a few things I want to say to you and your accomplice over there. Tell Robin that his tie looks ridiculous. He looks like he's late for prep school graduation._

_Killian: Easy, love. He really helped lobby in favor of you going to NY just now out of the true kindness of his heart. Perhaps gratitude is in order?_

_Emma: I hate you both....and your little bromance that seems focused on tormenting me. Now stop texting during meetings. It's doing nothing for your faux professionalism._

_Killian: Fine line between teasing and tormenting, Swan....and although I can't speak for Mr. Loxsley here, I am always a very well-mannered gentleman._

_Emma: Shut up...._

_Killian: Fine. But one more thing?_

_Emma: Ugh, what?!_

_Killian: Bring me back a t-shirt? ;)_

She shook her head as she gave him a filthy look, shoving her phone forcefully back into the front pocket of her purse. She didn't miss the way those two jerks gave each other a sneaky, underhanded low five. Emma spent the rest of the meeting thinking of where she could buy the most embarrassing souvenir possible for that low life Mr. Jones.

_Killian: For the record, I meant what I said about you being a great teacher :)_

Emma read the last message on her phone with a far too ambitious grin. She quickly composed herself, but when she turned to find him, he was gone.

###### 

Ruby finally showed, but only twenty minutes late which was actually better than usual. She carried a small stack of mail - Emma wouldn't be returning home until later that night so she'd asked her to bring it. Perhaps she had also made that request to see if Ruby truly _had_ managed to keep track of things while she was away.

"Here you go, _sheriff_ ," Ruby said in a patronizing tone, taunting her authoritative nature with a snide nickname. "One ridiculous stack of mail for Emma Swan. Do you realize how many credit cards you could have? It seriously seems like people want to give you free money with all the pre-approved envelopes you get."

"Which are, surprisingly enough, still sealed. Point for you, Ruby."

"Be careful, Emma," Ruby retorted, pointing a teasing finger at her. "If this house sitting thing takes off, you might not be able to book me so late in advance without a healthy convenience fee."

"Ha! Well that's okay because I could just pay you with all that 'free money' you claim I could get," Emma laughed freely. "All of our problems solved."

"Exactly! I knew you'd start to see things my way eventually. So breakfast?"

"Nah," Emma replied as she thumbed through her mail. "I've got to get to school and make sure nobody died or set fire to the classroom while I was away."

Her phone chimed in her back pocket and she set to retrieve it as her fingers stumbled across a thick envelope near the bottom of the stack. She felt its odd importance and she set it on top of the others, but not reading it. Her phone had demanded attention first so she figured it could wait a minute. She saw the name flash on her screen that alerted her of a new text and she proceeded into a dramatic eye roll. She should have just read the contents of the envelope instead.

_Killian: I shall assume you have made it home and that you are anxious to make amends with me - bring coffee as a peace offering. see you soon, Swan._

"Come on, Ruby," Emma stood and gestured toward the door of the diner. "I think I have time for a quick cup of coffee."

Emma was having coffee with Ruby because she wanted to and she needed to get the details on what had happened in town during her absence. It had absolutely _nothing_ to do with getting Killian a hot, freshly brewed to-go cup before heading to school. Hell, she didn't owe him anything. Actually, if anything, it was _him_ who owed her.

She slid into the booth closest to the front doors, still clutching the envelope. Ruby set off to the counter to get them some hot mugs - her grandma still owned the place so she made her way behind the counter to fix up their drinks as Emma mused over the mystery mail.

Yep, here it was. She'd been afraid of this. _Dammit._

In big bold letters, the return address told her rather enthusiastically who the letter's happy sender was: The Future Mrs. David Nolan.

Honestly, Emma loved her cousin, David. They'd been extraordinarily close growing up in Boston - Emma's parents traveled endlessly for work and she'd spent more nights on an air mattress at his house than in her own bed. David had always looked out for Emma - giving her rides to school when he didn't have to, talking her into getting her teaching degree, and even punching her ex, Neal, right in the face before he even knew the circumstances of their breakup. In all fairness, he did deserve it.

"What ya got there?"

Emma had been so wrapped up in wrapping her mind around this piece of mail that she was startled when Ruby plucked it right out of her hands.

"Oh is this from Dave's new girl?!"

"Well it looks like she's not just his 'girl'." Emma said, a little annoyed as she snatched the envelope back. "Fiancé might be more appropriate."

It shouldn't have been a surprise and as Emma thought about it, she realized it really wasn't. He had gone on and on about Mary Margaret for months before Emma actually met her. David didn't usually introduce his girlfriends to family so when he had arranged for them all to have dinner, Emma knew it was big. He'd tried to call a few times while she had been off in New York attending the conference from hell - at least that was one of the headlines of the guilt trip speech she was going to give Killian. She wondered if the engagement had been the reason behind the vague voicemails David had left her.

Mary Margaret was a great match for Dave. She was a sweet, wholesome girl and as much as her personality should have clashed with Emma's - it didn't. They talked quite freely and Mary Margaret took such a genuine interest in anything and everything Emma had to say. She was glad they'd got to meet since she figured the two were headed for bliss, but after a few hours discussing domestics and "the future", Emma found herself quite out of place and _totally_ ready to go home. They were so taken with one another that Emma had taken the term "third wheel" to a whole new level of lame.

Emma didn't have an issue with her cousin or his betrothed. She had an _issue_ with the invitation to the engagement party that Ruby had somehow stolen again and was currently skimming.

"So they're doing it in Boston after all," Ruby mused as her eyes moved across the fancy lettering. "Oh my hell, Emma. _Look_."

Ruby flashed the R.S.V.P. card at Emma. They'd given her a plus one. God _dammit_ , David. Emma could practically feel his smirk burned into the pretentious paper invitation.

Her mind drifted to the intense string of events that would surely occur over the next few months - this party, at least one wedding shower for sure, and the big event itself. God, the actual wedding - and they'd given _her_ a plus one.

"So what's your plan?"

Emma pursed her lips at her friend's question. She definitely couldn't call them on it - that would only magnify the fact that she was alone and create a strong implication that she wasn't okay with that. She couldn't go alone either. She'd spend the entire time being grilled about where her boyfriend was and when they were getting hitched. There were reasons she avoided going to family events in Boston and that was one of the main ones. She couldn't just skip out altogether - she could never do that to David. She had to figure something out and she knew she shouldn't call her cousin back until she'd formulated an agenda. Emma dropped her forehead against the cool countertop, frustrated beyond words that none of her options were even mildly appealing.

"You can always come with us," Ruby offered as Emma raised an eyebrow at her. "With me and Victor."

"You guys got invited to this thing too? Wait, you _knew_ about this?!"

"Well you know how guys are," Ruby explained with a flourish of her hand. "Dave said something to Victor just before the proposal. He'd mentioned a few possible dates. Probably just wanted to see if it would clash with Victor's residency."

Ruby was trying her best to make light of the whole thing. Emma began to laugh sarcastically as she ran a hand down her face in sheer dread. She was doing everything possible with one cup of caffeine to think of a valid excuse to not tag along as an accessory to Ruby when her phone chimed again.

_Killian: Oh come on Swan! If you were a barista, you'd sure be a poor one and I would never tip you. My first class in in 40 minutes and operating power tools is frowned upon when the operator is groggy from a late evening of scotch and regrets with his thieving best friend._

Emma groaned dramatically at how infuriatingly exasperating and dashing he was. He commits her to a training in New York alone for three days to save his own skin and then he has the _nerve_ to tell her to brighten his morning with coffee. Seriously, who the _hell_ did he think he-

Oh my _god._

Emma's eyes went wide with an idea - a crazy one perhaps, but it was something at least. She didn't have time to think the details through at that exact moment, but she could hash that out on her drive to school. She'd admit she was in crisis mode and this spark of inspiration on how to make the endless wedding shenanigans more bearable was probably way too impulsive. Either way, she was about to find out.

"Hey Rubes, I gotta go," she said as her friend refilled a fresh to-go cup for her. "Thanks for everything and I will catch up with you - later this week?"

Ruby simply nodded. She was clearly aware that wheels were turning in Emma's head and seemed to be rather interested in seeing if a train wreck was about to play out. Emma hurried across the road to her car, pulling her phone out as she opened the door.

_Emma: Hey idiot - yes I'm back and yes I will bring you some caffeine. Not quite ready to totally make amends but I've got a proposition for you that could put you back in my good graces. See you in ten. Be there or drink cold coffee._

Emma clicked the lock screen button on her phone as she tossed it on the passenger seat. A sly smile crossed her lips as she buckled up.

Oh, yes. This was going to be _way_ too fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love the little banter and dynamic of this relationship. It's seriously way too fun to write :) All rights and characters belong to OUAT.

She wasn't exactly sure when it had happened - the lack of overall loathing traded for taunting and maybe even flirty banter. Emma didn't socialize much with people from school as they all had families to care for or retirements to anticipate. It had caught her completely off guard that Principal Hopper had hired someone closer to her age for once - although he still had a few years on her. As much as it was refreshing to have a colleague who she might actually have something in common with, that all quickly faded the moment she met Killian Jones.

###### 

_She was running late and Emma Swan was never late. She had spent a few late hours grading a stack of book reports from her preteen students who seemed to be improving their abilities grammatically speaking. Sadly, they still sucked at detailed descriptions. This had prompted Emma to fall into a dead sleep on her couch with an essay in hand. She had fortunately yet unfortunately woken up with thirty five minutes to get herself ready, presentable, and functional._

_She scrambled to throw on a simple, yellow and gray dress with a pair of black flats all while teasing her hair into a loose braid before jetting out the door. In a rush, she'd been forced to skip her stop for morning coffee. She knew she'd kick herself for that later. She sped into the parking lot, rounding the corner of the school to where the faculty left their cars with just under fifteen minutes to spare._

_What the hell - someone was in her spot. Okay, technically they didn't have assigned parking for staff members, but Emma had always parked there. The sleek, black BMW that was stationed in the spot was unrecognizable. As she found a different space across the way, she gathered her things and then noticed someone getting out of the mystery car. She ran to catch up with the parking thief - of course she was going to let whoever it was know all about the concept of seniority._

_"Hey! Hey - wait!"_

_She yelled at a man who had his back toward her as he walked toward the double glass doors. He turned around at the sound of her voice and gave her an expectant half smile._

_Emma felt her breath hitch in her throat at the handsome unknown guy who was almost smirking with one of those I-get-that-a-lot expressions. He had ruffled, desperately dark hair and piercing crystal blue eyes. He was definitely not a teacher - his attire of fitted dark wash jeans, a black and red plaid flannel shirt, and tanned boat shoes told her that much. He took a quick sip of coffee from the local diner to-go cup in his hand as he waited for her to finish gawking. She snapped out of it after a moment, somewhat embarrassed but determined to make her point._

_"Hi, umm, you just - you're in my spot."_

_"Ah, apologies," he replied with a knowing grin and a terrible, wonderful accent. "Principal Hopper must have neglected to inform me of the parking stipulations. Oh, how rude of me - I should introduce myself. Killian Jones. You are?"_

_"Swan....Emma Swan....and uh, we don't actually have spots I guess," she explained, stuttering without knowing why. "It's just, uh..."_

_"You always park there?"_

_She nodded as his raised eyebrow seemed to mock the fact that she was so concerned about where she left her car. The first bell rang._

_"Well, Ms. Swan," he began. "If memory serves me well, the English teachers have classrooms all the way at the opposite end of this hallway which I presume is also where yours would be located as well, correct?"_

_She opened her mouth wordlessly and tried to not look too shocked at his knowledge of her. God - stalk much?_

_"Luckily for me, my wood shop is just on the left inside those doors. You can see why I'd find this spot appealing, right?"_

_She stood listening, wondering who the hell he thought he was. She tried to say something - anything at all. She failed as she watched him glance down at his watch._

_"It really is too bad that the bell rings soon. I'd hate to appear tardy on the first day. One day of parking disruption shouldn't be a problem, right?"_

_"It's not that," Emma finally replied. "This isn't about a parking space. I don't know you or honestly who you think you are, but you just - you can't just come here and...."_

_"Perhaps, love," he interrupted. "But what you can do is allow the new guy a bit of convenience on his first day. You seem like the compassionate sort so I knew that naturally, you'd understand."_

_With that, he continued his stride to the doors. She stared after him, speechless at the manipulative words of this arrogant, somewhat attractive stranger._

_"Oh and one last thing," he paused, his hand on the handle of the glass door. "Have a wonderful day, Emma."_

_She was so unbelievably infuriated at his exuberant confidence and suave canny to get his way that she didn't even realize it until she was unlocking her classroom - nobody else at school did, but that bastard had called her by her first name._

###### 

Emma careened into the lot with her mind still spinning circles as she drove around the back to her - yes, _her_ parking space. Killian had expectedly parked in the space next to her. He'd kind of claimed it last year when Mr. Gold's health forced him to retire. The old crocodile of a shop teacher had fallen and broken his leg on a staircase, forcibly making him take disability for the last half of the school year. It was also what brought Killian to the junior high as a long term substitute who was ultimately hired to take over permanently.

She could tell that he had just had his BMW detailed and waxed - _men and their cars_ , she thought. She remembered the note he'd left on her windshield after that first day confrontation.

_Apologizes for commandeering your spot this morning. Your kindness and understanding means a lot to me. The space is yours - although I'm quite sure this whole thing isn't just about the space. -KJ_

She smirked and shook her head at the memory, grabbing his cup of joe, the cookie from the diner that she _definitely_ did _not_ know he loved, and entering the side door - the one that usually _only_ she used - to the wood shop. The lights were on, but it was pretty quiet.

"Jones?"

"Hey, Swan," he yelled from his office. "Back here!"

She made the quick stride across the open floor layout, formulating her guilt trip in her head and trying to muster how she could gracefully follow up with her proposal.

"Killian, you are just lucky I put up with your intolerable texts. Most women would probably...."

She stopped her scolding very suddenly as she was met with an unexpected, unholy sight. There he was - _shirtless_ with wet hair and grinning for what she hoped were less than seductive reasons.

"Hey, Swan," he laughed as he watched her blush. "See something you like?"

"Killian, what the hell?! Where is your - why are - you _knew_ I was coming here!"

"For your information, love," he laughed, rifling through a duffle bag as he teased. "Robin and I played some hoops earlier this morning. I showered at home and threw on a t-shirt, but remembered I have a meeting at lunch today so I need to wear my 'professional' clothes which you know I more often that not keep here for their most functional use."

He dug his tie out of the bag and tossed it on his desk as he slung his white dress shirt over his chair. Emma rolled her eyes and quickly turned around so she didn't have to face his chiseled, tempting body - she could afford no distractions on this mission.

"Did you bring my coffee? Miss me so much that you just couldn't wait to win my affections back, love?"

" _Don't_ call me 'love'," she replied, trying to sound annoyed yet composed. "Jones, for the love of God, clothe yourself. I can't give you directions on how we can be civil again when you look so....indecent."

He laughed as she heard the rustling of him dressing behind her. She turned to peek and caught his glance briefly as he buttoned up his shirt. He looked so amused, his tie hanging undone and his hands working to roll up the sleeves. She cursed her reaction to his state of undress. 

"Okay, Swan, proper once again," he alerted her as she turned back and he reached for the to-go cup and the unexpected cookie she'd taken the pride in bringing to him as well. "You said you were going to - or rather that you have a proposition for me?"

"Yes, I need something and you as well as Robin owe me after your little stunt you pulled at faculty meeting....good hell, Killian, how are you planning to teach wood shop in a white shirt? That sounds like it could easily be a laundry nightmare."

She was stalling. He _knew_ she was stalling. She bit her bottom lip. God, here goes.

"So my cousin, David, lives in Boston and he's getting married," she started as she decided it was not best to meet his gaze. "It's kinda ridiculous and I'm from Boston and our whole family plus a million friends are going to be there and it's silly because they all want to know about my love life and I just-"

"Swan, whoa," he cut her off, holding up a hand to put a stop to her insane run-on sentence. "You're an English teacher, love. You of all people should realize that you cannot use 'and' that many times in a competent sentence. Now why don't you quit with the rambling and just tell me what this is all about?"

"I need a date," she blurted out. "For - for the wedding. A date for the wedding."

She wanted to drag herself over the table saw. She really didn't mean to just spit it out like that. She must have sounded so crazy and nervous - he'd laugh at her any moment for sure. She waited a moment and as she raised her eyes to look at him, his furrowed eyebrows and half open yet speechless mouth told her he was just as thrown off as she was.

Right on cue, the bell rang and a few moments later a stream of junior high kids began to file in. He scratched behind his ear as she internally laughed at the timing of this whole situation.

"Okay, I gotta go," she said as she watched him smile at her uneasy posture. "I'll just - yeah I will just see you later - or around. Yeah, I'll just see you around, Jones. Enjoy the coffee."

God he'd bested her again. How many times was she going to keep letting that happen? As she was about to walk out of the shop and head off to get her own class started, she felt him behind her.

"This isn't over, Swan."

When she looked back over her shoulder, he had a small smile on his lips and he winked at her in a most mysterious manner. Now what the _hell_ did that mean?!

###### 

Emma's day had filtered out in a blur. As she'd locked her classroom door, she took a quick peek up the hallway. The shop lights were off and she was glad to know he was gone. She took a deep breath and headed to the parking lot to fall into her car. Yes, into the car and away from school. Away from that conversation. _Away_ from Killian Jones. 

She began to dig around in her bag for her car keys - honestly it was a wonder she ever found anything in there. She was so stupid for keeping them separate from her school keys and Killian had definitely mentioned _that_ fact on several occasions. She shook her head, demanding internally to herself to quit thinking about him. 

She decided to try her jacket pockets, but as she looked up through the driver's side window, she saw them. Emma opened the obviously unlocked door. The keys were sitting on the passenger seat next to a note, a small wrapped something from the diner, and a receipt. She mulled it over before looking at the note - it was from the diner, but she hadn't eaten dinner there for quite a while....and she definitely hadn't eaten enough for two people. She set it down and flipped open a simple stationary note. She was greeted by a clarification in the form of Killian's disgustingly perfect penmanship.

_I'm in. Take out will be ready and waiting for you at six thirty. Meet me at my place around seven. My address is on the back. I've got some questions and it will be a pleasure getting you to answer them. -KJ_

She opened the small, crinkly bag. A double chocolate chip cookie - the kind he should _not_ know that she loved.

 _Oh, great,_ she thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so floored with the response to this story so far - I'm glad you are all as amused by the fake dating idea with these two as I am :) I hope to have another chapter up soon! Enjoy and as always, all rights and characters belong to OUAT.

What the hell am I even doing here?

Emma stood outside of Killian's house, leaning against the door of her car and staring at the beautiful architecture. _Of course_ he'd live in a place like this. What an insufferable showoff.

It was everything a beach house on the Maine shoreline should be, but with a modernized feel that warmed the air surrounding Emma. The endless glass gave a clear view into the lower floor of the home where a fireplace was currently glowing despite the soft lighting already illuminating things and the vaulted ceilings of the second level soared up to a towering height. There were pristine glass doors that led off the front of the top floor to a deck that - from what Emma could tell - stretched all the way around the structure. The rolling waves in the nearby distance gave a sound to the scene. This guy was a _teacher_ which was not exactly a lucrative profession - she had to be at the wrong place.

She began to rummage through her ridiculous purse for his note and her dignity. Where the hell did she put-

"Giving up already, Swan? I didn't peg you as the quitting type."

His voice was somewhat loud as he was standing on the upper deck, leaning forward with his hands bracing the beechwood surface. He had obviously gotten out of his dress clothes as quick as possible and he now wore faded jeans, a cable knit dark blue sweater, and Emma's least favorite grin - the genuine one that make her heart race.

"Not quitting," she finally replied. "Just trying to find your _butler_ to let me in and take my coat."

"Oh, yeah, _that_ ," he said sarcastically, playing into her little game. "Well I figured Friday night....I said I was a gentleman so I may as well answer my own door eh? Food?"

Emma lifted the to-go bag she'd acquired as proof. She'd picked it up per his request with the receipt showing he'd already paid, but when she found he's already included the tip as well, she wondering what he was playing at.

"I always hold up my end of the deal, Jones."

"Clearly," he smirked and possibly winked. "Let yourself in. Be right down."

Emma took a deep breath and began her way up the concrete to the beautiful, weathered front door. She stood at odds with everything for a minute - well perhaps longer. When she finally reached for the handle, he was swinging it open.

"Last I checked," he laughed. "The door doesn't bite. For the record, neither do I _unless_ you want-"

She shoved the take out bag into his arms with a glare and took a quick stride past him, ignoring his obvious innuendo. She actually had a much stronger interest to take in her surroundings. Given the house and his recent acquiesce to her idea, Emma found herself wondering who Killian Jones actually was.

"So how did you end up here? I mean - this place is beautiful and definitely not something I knew a teacher's salary could afford."

"Now you're only more interested because of my finances," he teased. "Never knew you to be so shallow, love. Let's just say that life has shown me fortune once or twice before."

He raised an eyebrow at her that signaled the end of her inquisition and that conversation. She wasn't amused - she'd get it out of him eventually.

The house was stunning - huge bay windows, stainless steel appliances, walnut wood floors, a smooth probably handcrafted table with matching chairs, and a roaring fireplace built into the wall just under a flatscreen TV. Decor was sporadic - he was a man after all - but Emma noticed it was mostly nautical themed. _Fitting_ , she thought as she observed the room around her. She began to see a commonality - wood, wood, wood. It clicked.

"Killian, did you build this - I mean any....or, uh, all of this?"

She wasn't sure how to divide her question, but she knew he was quite the carpenter and it made her curious. This puzzle that was Killian Jones was really getting complicated - and Emma didn't do complicated.

"If I recally correctly," he answered, beginning to unpack their meal as he tossed her a saucy glance. "I am the one who gets to ask the questions tonight, _love._ "

She rolled her eyes at him, moving back toward the kitchen where she watched his hands maneuver around the room. She found a seat on a barstool that sat next to the kitchen island - both clearly originally made. He passed her a plate and silverware before he moved to the refrigerator, which of course, made a technological sound of some sort as it opened. _Ridiculous_ , Emma thought.

"My first question would be about what you'd like to drink," he inquired as he shuffled things around in the fridge. "Water? Beer? Wine?"

Of course he'd offer her alcohol. It wasn't that she had decided he was a lush of any sort, but he'd seen her drink before and given her wired state, perhaps he wanted her to relax a bit. _Nope_. This was business. Killian Jones could keep his libations to himself.

"Water is fine."

He grabbed a bottle for her and one for himself. She found herself a bit disappointed that the whole night seemed to be turning rather G rated - well perhaps PG with the looks he kept giving her. He stood on the opposite side of the island and handed her the water.

"So Emma Swan," he started, taking the cap off the bottle. "How long did you live in Boston?"

Hearing him use both of her names together was new and it caused her cheeks to blush a bit. This must be the start of his interrogation. It was kind of an odd place to begin, but she figured she could indulge him.

"I grew up there," she replied simply. "So about 17 years. Most of my family still lives there."

"Like your cousin and his family, right?"

"Yes, David and his family - his fiance as well. A few others also."

"You don't visit often then?"

"I try not to," she sighed. "Family tends to care about you and that usually means getting the third degree from everyone."

"Third degree about what?"

"Everything. Work. When I'm moving back home. Love interests."

"Well from what I can glean," he raised an eyebrow with a soft smile. "You don't seem to have much of an interest in love."

_What a nosy bastard_ , she thought to herself. He seemed to think he knew so much about her, but she could never figure out how he knew anything. They talked sure - bantered actually. They'd spent time together at school things like chaperoning dances and helping set up new computers. She hadn't seen that much of him outside of an educational facility. That would be way too casual for her liking. Yet here she was, sitting in his beautiful house eating dinner while answering ridiculous questions - bested again by the same arrogantly handsome wood shop teacher.

"I have an interest in a love for things - my job mostly."

"I suppose that's a good thing," he said, toying with the corner of a napkin. "But tell me this, Emma. Have you ever even been in love?"

"Have _you?_ "

She hadn't meant to snap back so quickly. She just didn't like how personal this questioning was becoming. She expected him to apologize for being so forward or to try to lighten the mood by shifting topics.

"I get to ask the questions, _Swan_. Since you asked so politely, I will tell you that yes I have."

He smiled confidently as he looked her with unwavering curiosity. She rolled her eyes at him and he chuckled at his tiny victory. He was such an expressive person - something she noticed the more time she spent around him. He took on almost everything as a task that required a plan - even eating. He'd been hovering over his food for a while now, cutting things and shifting things. Finally, he took a bite and she had to laugh inwardly at his well thought out approach.

"So," he continued. "I'm guessing that this lack of desire to return home doesn't just stem from your family's inquiries. What's your real reason for wanting to take someone along? Not that I'm _surprised_ you'd choose me."

"I don't know why you think this is some backhanded way for me to admit I'm in love with you. I just need a date - plain and simple."

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly knowing that is wasn't so plain and simple. He wasn't going to push her for an explanation she didn't seem ready to give. There was something guarded about Emma Swan and she wasn't going to let anyone in until she felt like it.

"Well fortunately for you, I happen to love weddings," Killian said in a lighthearted tone. "What's the agenda on this whole thing?"

"Well it's a true to print Boston wedding....which means it's not actually _just_ the wedding...."

"Ah, I _see_ ," he replied, raising an eyebrow with a grin. "So you have roped me into being your date for a multistage event?"

"I'm not _trying_ to manipulate you! It's not going to be that bad," she tried in a uncharacteristic flirty tone, looking up at him front under her eyelashes. "Just, you know....an engagement party, a weekend retreat with a few family members....a rehearsal....the wedding...."

She began to realize how much she was asking of him as she listed off the steps to a big Bostonian wedding - but more than that, she began to calculate just how much time they'd be spending together. It made her shift in her chair a few times.

"But you, some of that could be cut out. Like, you don't have to come to the rehearsal. It's not even that big of a deal. We just have-"

"Calm down, _Emma_ ," he said, grabbing her hand unexpectedly. "I said I'd do it so I will. That is, unless you're having second thoughts?"

She took a moment to look at her hand that he was currently holding. There was an electricity there. His touch was warm and reassuring, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She lifted her eyes to meet his, expecting to find a seductive gaze or a flirty challenge, but she didn't. He looked at her concerned and even a bit vulnerable - like he was scared she'd changed her mind and this was all for naught. She subconsciously shook her head.

"Okay then," he smiled as he removed his hand. "I've got a proposition for your proposition."

"I knew this was coming," she sighed with defeat. "What do you want, Jones?"

"Well, by my count, this wedding extravaganza includes a string of many smaller events," he figured. "I assume at these small gatherings, you'll be wanting me to appear as if I'm not just a date but actually your significant other?"

He clicked his tongue on the 't' of the word 'significant'. She imagined how it would look for others to see them at the wedding - Emma Swan and her foreign, dashing boyfriend. It was dangerous, yes - but appealing in the strangest way. She nodded carefully.

"Then I suppose we should practice," he concluded, looking at her with a half smile. "Would't want to end up on different pages and collapse the whole facade, now would we?"

"What are you saying?"

He moved around to her side of the island, leaning back against the counter while still edging into her space. She didn't move except to look up at him. He grinned down at her, loving how the cards seemed to all be in his hand.

"Let's have dinner."

"We _are_ having dinner," Emma said, twirling her fork in the air. "The same dinner that is going to get cold if you don't eat and stop invading my space, Jones."

"Not what I meant," he replied, setting her fork down and forcing her chin up so her eyes matched his. "Have dinner with me. Tomorrow night."

His eyes were drowning and unfairly dark blue. His hair was disheveled a bit, but still the same kind of soft-looking that made her want to run her fingers through it. His lips were pursed with the threat of a victorious smile. Emma wasn't sure what he was doing, but any other man would have only looked at her this way just before kissing her. Killian stayed stationary, waiting for her reply, but not lowering his gaze. She shouldn't do this, but once again, she couldn't help wondering what game he was setting up.

"Okay."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay here's another one :) so fun to write this! I hope I can update this as frequently as possible. Stick with me and I will try to get chapters up as quick as I can! All rights and characters belong to OUAT.

“Is this even a good idea?!”

Emma was currently laying in quite the dramatic fashion diagonally on her bed with her arms covering her flustered face. It was hour two of preparation for their….dinner. She was refusing to call it a date as that is not what it was. This, after all, was not real.

“Yes, it is,” Ruby encouraged, tossing a pillow at her. “You have to go because how will it look if you don’t? Plus, if you two are _really_ going to pull this off, it might not hurt you to get to know each other a little better. It’s supposed to look like you’ve been dating for quite a while and it would be way embarrassing for you to not know the answer to when his birthday is or if he has a food allergy or something like that.”

Ruby was the only one who knew of this little arrangement – well perhaps. He may have told Robin, but that was something Emma have to ask about later that night. Ruby understood Emma’s uncomfortable dislike of going home and she knew of all the reasons that dislike existed. She didn’t question this idea of bringing a fake boyfriend along, but Emma really hoped that didn’t mean Ruby was thinking it might end up not being so fake after all.

“Now, did he say where you were going?”

There was only one nice restaurant in Storybrooke where a man might take a woman to charm them. This was not the place Killian had picked. She remembered their little text session from earlier that day.

_Emma: So what time are we dining, Jones?_

_Killian: That eager to see me, huh?_

_Emma: Oh hardly. I just like being punctual._

_Killian: Reservation for seven. Wear something less than professional ;)_

Emma scowled at his suggestion as Ruby thumbed through her closet. She knew she has something to wear – the dozens of labels and endless hangers in her closet were testament to that – but what exactly that ‘something’ was, Emma had no idea. She’d already turned down the multitude of options Ruby had picked and now she was watching the minutes tick down until seven.

“Look, Emma, I have to go,” Ruby said as she gathered her jacket. “But you _are_ going to this date – er – thing with Killian. You have plenty of hot things to wear so freaking pick one and pull it together.”

“Quite encouraging, Ruby.”

“I know,” she replied with a laugh. “I’m out.”

Emma listened to the sequence of closing doors as he friend left. She stared up at the ceiling. This was just dinner. It was necessary if they were going to do this. It may also be a chance for her to prod him with questions of her own since he hadn’t allowed much of that the other night. _Less than professional_ , she thought. With a smile, she quickly hopped up and reached to the back of her closet. She figured if he wanted to play coy and cryptic, two could tango. _He-llo,_ little black dress. Killian Jones would never know what hit him.

###### 

Her GPS was giving her the same droning directions it usually did when she typed in an address. Emma had insisted on meeting him there, hoping it would sift out the date implications. He’d sent her the location earlier and she wasn’t sure why he was sending her to the docks. She pulled into a corner of the dirt lot to park as she watched the sunlight hit the water. She wondered absentmindedly why she didn’t come down to this part of town more often. It was calm – very serene and inviting.

It was only 6:43 so she had a few minutes to mentally prepare herself to deal with Killian and his miserable, glorious face and matching accent. She decided it best to roll down the window a bit and let in the fresh, misty breeze while waiting. She pulled down the mirror in her car and tried to remind herself why this was a good plan.

She’d chosen to wear the dress – black and hitting just below the knee. The neckline was rounded and it tapered off into small cap sleeves. She had only wore it once before and she had no idea why her addled mind had convinced her to wear it to this. She had pulled her hair back into a long, lose ponytail that gathered at her lower neck and trailed down her back. She wore her square stud diamond earrings – ones she’d obtained from her mother’s old jewelry box ages ago. They didn’t usually seem right for most events, but she figured why the hell not this time.

“Wonderful evening, Swan.”

Emma jumped at the voice – mostly because she was surprised but also because she was not prepared for Killian and his teasing yet. She quickly shoved the mirror back up and smiled nervously at him.

God, this _incorrigible_ man. He was wearing tailored jeans that fit him like a damn, _stupid_ glove and a white button up shirt that was rolled up to his elbows white still open a bit at the top. He had a new watch – she wasn’t sure _why_ she knew that – but it was platinum and set on a leather cuff. Looking down, Emma noticed his brown flip flops to be quite out of character for this ensemble, but quickly realized it must be part of his ruse.

“Good evening to you as well. Is this where we are eating or are you planning to kill me here and dump me in the harbor? I honestly would understand as apparently dinner with me has forced you to wear adult clothing.”

“Maybe I just thought you’d like it,” he flirted, gesturing toward his outfit. “Which _clearly_ you do.”

She tried so hard to look annoyed, but damn – he did look very, _very_ nice.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she retorted. “I’m just surprised at your willingness to oblige.”

“Perhaps,” he winked. “But are you going to sit in your car and insult me through the open window all night or would you like to get something to eat?”

She was sure she imagined the look on his face as she exited the vehicle. The never speechless man had apparently bit his tongue off as he absorbed the sight of a dolled up Emma Swan. His eyes were wide and he looked sinful as he bit his lower lip. _This_ was priceless. She couldn’t help taunting him.

“Surprised, Jones?

“Pleasantly.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he said sweetly. “You look _stunning_ , Swan.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. “What are we doing here?”

He laughed at her inability to accept praise. It was so strange to see him like this – like he was trying to impress her on a whole new level.

“Come with me.”

###### 

“Wait a minute – are we about to break the law or do you know who this boat belongs to?”

“Despite the dashing rapscallion you seem to believe I am,” Killian replied, offering her his hand to help her from the steps down into the sailboat. “This boat does have an owner that I happen to know and have a great deal of respect for.”

It was a white, cruising sailboat – the same kind that littered the bay around Storybrooke. The sails were ageless and tall as they flapped lightly in the breeze. The deck along the front was lit up with twinkle lights, a sight that made Emma’s blood freeze. A thick rope tied the boat tight against the dock although the water was fairly glassy with the calm weather surrounding them.

“You’re such a cliché, Jones. I’m disappointed honestly – I thought it would take you much longer to admit that you’re trying to woo me.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong, darling,” he said, pulling her down next to him. “If I was trying to ‘woo’ you, I’d take you sailing.”

“Is that not what you’re doing?”

“Not tonight, love,” he laughed. “But I do have a meal planned so try not to act so disappointed.”

She smirked at him with a knowing glare as she moved around the deck, snooping for lack of a better term. There was a rounded bench of sorts covered with pillows at the bow of the boat and Emma took the liberty of sitting down as she looked around. Killian had wandered down into the galley for a moment and she heard him shuffling things around. She looked to the headsail of the vessel and noticed something leaning against the surface – Killian’s canvas school bag. Suddenly it made sense – the beach house by the water, a man that he “knew and had respect for”, the way sand seemed to appear mixed in with the sawdust on the school’s wood shop floors. Okay, so _maybe_ it was a stretch, but she had to ask.

“Killian, is this _your_ boat?”

“Quite the detective, there, Swan,” he said, making his way back up to the deck. “Welcome aboard the _Jolly Roger_ , m’lady.”

“Ha! The Jolly Roger,” Emma laughed out loud. “Like it Peter Pan? Captain Hook’s ship?”

He winked as he began to work a corkscrew into a bottle of wine. _Well, no getting out of this one_ , Emma thought.

“If you must know, love,” he began, turning the tool carefully. “I had a fondness for pirates growing up. My brother and I – we, uh, used to sail with my father when we were younger. He’d tell us all kinds of tall tales about pirates. Guess it kinda stuck with me.”

“Here I thought I was going to have to pry information from you,” Emma said, taking the class he poured her. “I was looking forward to turning the tables on you tonight.”

“Ask away,” he smirked, taking the seat next to her and leaning back against one of the larger pillows. “I’m an open book.”

“Okay, where’s that accent from?”

“Same place as me,” he replied, taking a sip. “Ireland. A town just away from Dublin.”

“Charming,” she teased. “Why’d you leave?”

“Same reason anyone does – a chance to start over, a fresh start,” he looked at her as he spoke, implying he knew why she’d come to Storybrooke as well. “An unending thirst for adventure.”

“Any family back home?”

“No,” he said softly, swirling around the contents as he looked down. “Not anymore.”

 _Whoa._ What was that? Emma furrowed her eyebrows at this version of Killian she hadn’t seen before. He looked almost lost – sad even. This question about family had hit a nerve of some sort and Emma made a mental note to log that information away for later.

“So you left to come here – and you brought Robin with you?”

“Well, sort of,” he laughed, his light mood returning. “He came here about six months after I did. We kept in touch after I’d moved overseas and I’d told him of this place. He was ready for something new as well so it didn’t take much prompting to get him to cave.”

“So what’s his story?”

“Robin and I met in grade school so I venture I know more of him that most, but I’m guessing that’s not really what you’re asking….so, Robin is a widower. His wife died a few years ago – nasty illness. It was very difficult to watch and because of that, I kind of became ‘uncle’ of the year. I spent a lot of time helping out with his son while she was sick.”

“Wait – Robin has a kid?”

“Roland – yeah,” Killian smiled sweetly. “He’s about four. Good kid.”

“That had to be hard for him,” Emma commented without thinking. “Kids shouldn’t have to lose parents.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but as he moved to say something, they were interrupted. A gawky, awkward teenage pizza boy moved up the steps and Killian stood to meet him. The kid handed over the box and Killian paid – cash with a rather hefty tip which Emma noticed. He held the box up with a goofy grin. She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her throat. She was glad he hadn’t taken this _too_ seriously. The night had been getting a bit intense with all of the back story and it was nice to see his carefree, playful side return for a minute.

“One day, Swan,” he offered, setting the box down on the deck next to them. “I shall have to demonstrate to you that I actually can cook.”

“I was starting to wonder.”

He grinned and shook his head at her. They ate sporadically and talked about more lighthearted things – favorite books, teaching, places they’d been. As he talked, Emma found herself intrigued by his tone as well as his expressions – he was quite the storyteller. Only after she’d finished eating did she realize there had really been no reason for either of them to wear somewhat formal clothing except for Killian getting her to do something he probably knew she didn’t want to. _Touche_ , she thought to herself. 

“So I must know,” Emma said, resuming drinking her wine. “What kind of ‘get rich quick’ scheme did you fall into and how the hell did you get it to work for you?”

“You do think I’m of the scheming sort, don’t you,” he laughed, closing the pizza box. “Well fortune did seem fit to show me favor once. I used to be an architect back in Ireland actually. I built boats for the insanely wealthy – the kind of people who throw money at anything. My brother and I worked together and we formed quite the reputation. Work was busy. It was….good.”

“So what happened?”

“Well....I guess the tides changed,” he said after a moment. “Life happened – and so ended that endeavor.”

He was hiding something – something terribly broken. She knew she only recognized it because she did they same thing as well. Perhaps they were more alike than she’d initially thought. Either way, she knew better than to prod.

“So the wedding….”

“Ah, yes,” he said, turning back to the conversation they’d come here for. “The wedding. You said it’s quite the parade of events. When’s the first one?”

“Next weekend – Saturday,” Emma replied, business as usual. “It’s the engagement party. I’ll get the dates on everything else while we’re there. Assuming you’re free to come?”

“Of course,” he said, nodding happily. “I’ll plan on it. I’m assuming you’d like fancy-clothes-Killian to accompany you, correct?”

“Well, yes,” Emma smiled. “If he can make it.”

“I _suppose_ ,” Killian feigned annoyance. “However, only under one condition…”

“Ugh. What?”

“I’m driving to Boston.”

###### 

It had grown dark rather fast and although Emma had never had such honest, easy conversation with Killian, she knew it was time to go. He wouldn’t allow her to walk to her car alone in the dark so he followed her back up the sand, each of them barefoot and sobering.

“Well, guess this is it,” she said, slipping her shoes back on before opening her car door. “Thanks for….this.”

“Anytime, love,” he smiled, fixing the sleeve of the jacket he’d let her when the breeze had turned cool. “I actually had a great time.”

“I did too,” she replied, tilting her head at him. “Surprisingly.”

“You know, Emma,” he said, moving closer. “If this _were_ a date and we were _truly_ dating, this….is when I’d kiss you.”

She stopped breathing for a second as she stared into his blue, tempting eyes. He didn’t move and she wondered if he was really about to answer the question as to whether this actually was a date or not.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward but only to kiss her cheek. “Just a thought on what we should practice next time.”

He reached behind her and opened her car door. She couldn’t _believe_ he’d say that. She could believe how furious _she_ was that he’d say that and _not_ act on it. What the hell was going on with her?! 

“Goodnight, Swan,” he said with a smile. “See you Monday.”

The car door clicked shut and she watched him saunter away. He peeked back at her over his shoulder once and even through the darkness, she could see his smug grin. She stared with her mouth agape until she couldn’t see him any longer. _That deviant moron_ , she thought.

She pulled into the driveway at her house, hardly remembering the drive home. She wasn’t sure what the evening had truly amounted to, but she did learn a few things about Killian – things she knew would need elaborating later. She tried to shake off the _other_ more interesting events of the evening. _Focus on what’s important here_ , she reminded herself. 

Once inside, she sighed heavily as he felt the weight on her shoulders. She’d forgotten to give him the jacket back – or rather he “forgot” to take it back. _Dammit._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay here we go :) I hope to have the next one up soon - I promise I'll make it worth the wait ;) I hope you're enjoying these two idiots in this scenario. It's so fun to write! As always, all rights and characters belong to OUAT.

The jacket had been hanging on the coat rack in Emma's hallway on and off for a few days. She wasn't sure where she was supposed to keep it or why she even still had it. It probably had something to do with the fact that she hadn't _let_ him know she still had it. Yeah _right_ \- as if he didn't know.

She had debated it all day Sunday, twirling her phone in her hand multiple times during the day as she thought of calling or texting him, but ultimately she just slipped it onto a hook and opted to deal with it when they returned to school. She'd _have_ to see him there. At school, there would be no debating anything.

Interestingly enough, she was wrong. Her Monday had been slammed - endless copies, a few sick kids, and a spontaneous staff meeting where Principal Hopper insisted on going on and on about state testing standards. Emma didn't miss the conspicuous wink and seductive grin she'd received when her eyes finally landed on Killian. It was only interrupted by the imparted knowledge that she - singularly - would have the pleasure of staying late with Principal Hopper and his minions of administration to look over seventh grade writing assessments. By the time that late night hell had ended, Emma went home and fell into bed like a studious zombie without any thought of a forgotten jacket.

She had strolled into the building all pompous with jacket in hand the next morning only to be greeted by a terribly overly nice substitute teacher. Killian had volunteered a while ago to chaperone the rambunctious troupe of boys on the basketball team to a tournament a few hours away - for two days. This was getting flat out _ridiculous_. She debated just leaving the jacket on his doorstep or in his classroom, but she didn't. It definitely wasn't because she was hoping to use it to see him again before their weekend trip. Nope, _definitely_ not.

On Wednesday night, Emma found herself horizontally sitting on her porch swing - the _stupid_ jacket at her feet - reading when the light above her clicked on. She was so wrapped up in her book that she had failed to notice how dark it was getting. It was such a tranquil evening and she only had a few more chapters so she snuggled into the light blanket across her legs and picked up her mug of tea.

"Swan."

She shot straight up a thousand feet in the air at the voice as her warm beverage landed all over her shirt. She quickly set the mug down and stood up with a gasp as the liquid trailed down her skin. There he was, leaning against her porch railing. Killian Jones - and he was _grinning_ like the Cheshire Cat.

"Good hell," she nearly yelled at him, throwing her paperback classic at him. "Why are you being such a lurker?! What are you even _doing_ here?!"

"I guess I'm 'lurking' as you so affectionately put it," he beamed as he set the book on the edge of the porch swing. "It's good to know you missed me while I was away."

Emma was so busy trying to rescue her shirt from the tea that it had taken her a while to look up at him. When she did, her heart fluttered in a way that it was surely not supposed to. He wore a gray and blue hoodie plastered with the school's logo and at the end of his signature jeans were the most adorable, terrible moccasined feet. She was about to laugh until her throat was silenced by the nerdy, thinly black rimmed glasses framing his face. Dear god - professor much? Bloody _hell_.

"Missed you as well, Swan," he teased with a friendly tone as he abruptly noticed his jacket. "Is pining for me the reason that you're out here abusing great literature at this hour with my coat as company?"

"Just enjoying the scenery - which you so kindly crashed..."

"God, Swan," he began, taking the blanket from her. "Not to invite myself in, but you need to change your shirt and I'm quite interested to see the inner workings of Emma Swan's lair while you do so."

"Well, just - carry....all of that," she said, gesturing to the items she'd brought out. "Make yourself useful."

He followed her with a laugh as the door closed behind them. Emma wasn't sure why he found it necessary to walk so closely behind her, but the she remembered it was her house and he was probably confused on where he was allowed to go.

She turned around to face him. His face looked tired but happy in a slightly goofy way. His stubble had grown thicker with the nights away and she had to resist the temptation to reach up and scratch it. His eyes were the same blue, but strangely intensified. They burned into hers as she felt that strange magnetism building once again. It was almost as if he _had_ missed her - nope.

"I'll just....you can have a seat," she said, tearing her glance away and motioning to the living room. "I'll be right back."

###### 

Emma glared at herself in the mirror. This was so _stupid_. It's just Killian. He's a colleague. He's a friend. He's....an infuriating, gorgeous Irishman with an outstanding amount of intrigue. God this was hopeless. She began rummaging around in her drawers and finally located a thick black sweater. _Perfect_ , she mused at the thought of concealing herself and her feelings in the frumpy top.

When she walked back into the living room, she nearly announced herself before stopping in the doorway. He was skimming a finger across her old leather bound books - Hawthorne, Dickens, Shakespeare, and a few others. His glasses made him look extra focused in a heart wrenching way and Emma had to fight a desire to continue observing.

"Being a book thief wouldn't bode well for your resume, Mr. Jones."

He turned to look at her, the mischief in his eyes mixed with the satisfaction that she had returned. He laughed softly. She had missed that these last few days. Wait - _what?_

"It would be bad form to steal from a lady," he replied teasingly. "Especially when I've already read most of them."

"Well those glasses _aren't_ just for show I guess, you little bookworm."

"Quite hilarious, Swan. So, who's your favorite?"

His question startled her a bit. She found herself wanting clarification and she found the chair that she was just now realizing may be a bit _too_ close to the couch. 

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, Swan, you're an English teacher," he commented, turning to peer at her over his shoulder. "I'd venture to say it's quite likely you have a favorite author."

"I-I guess....honestly, I really don't know. I haven't thought about that in a long time. It would be pretty hard to narrow it down to just one."

He seemed quite amused by her evasive indecisiveness. He hummed a little laugh and moved to the other book shelf where Emma stored an old record player she'd found in the basement of David's old house - one that her Aunt Ruth had insisted she have - as well as a stack of well played vinyl. Killian began to sift through the labels, finding one that apparently looked interesting. He snuck a glance at her and wiggled his eyebrows as he dropped the needle onto the black record. Soft jazz crooned at a scratchy volume across the room. He sneered at her and wandered to the couch. He threw himself down on his back dramatically, kicking his feet up as if he was planning to stay for a bit. Emma raised an eyebrow at him and he gasped with a grin as he relaxed into the cushions.

"You strike me as the poetry type," he decided out loud.

"Oh really? Why's that?"

"Well, poetry is _quite_ cryptic more often than not," he began with a wink. "There's always a hidden meaning just below the surface that can be interpreted in so many ways, but in the end it all just comes together - beautifully."

"Quite the charmer, Jones," she chided, raising her eyebrows at him. "You must think you've got me _all_ figured out."

"Ah, wish I did," he replied with his tongue in his cheek. "But not quite. At least not _yet._ "

His gaze was warm and caring - but it was a look that _should_ be unwelcome. She looked around the room for anything to help her change the conversation and she noticed he had brought a rather large shopping bag with him that was now sitting just under his reclaimed jacket. It was probably the real reason he was here. She was about to say something when he turned the tables on her.

"You know, Swan," he commented condescendingly. "If we are supposed to have been dating for months now, you've got to give me some fun facts about yourself besides just cookie preference and your _obvious_ affinity for my glasses."

She scowled at the way he saw right through her. _Bastard_.

"I'm not about to totally open this up to the floor, but I guess I could give you a bit," she shrugged with a blush that was completely uncalled for. "Within _reason_ of course."

"Hmmm, seems fair," he nodded with a stupid, seductive grin. "I suppose you'll be the one deciding what is actually within this reason you speak of?"

She gave him a nod that told him that he should have known the answer to that without asking. It was strange really - the way they interacted so effortlessly and the way he was already so comfortable in this lax environment with her. She wasn't sure what it meant, but the uncertainty of it all had her feeling very, _very_ guarded.

"Very well," he said, shifting so his arm was behind his head as he propped himself up on the couch. "I'll do my best to stay within the outlined boundaries."

The next hour flew by as the pair settled into easy conversation. It was almost _too_ easy actually. Emma told him about life in Boston - the parts he needed to know about anyway. He told her about Ireland - although he didn't bring up why he quite obviously missed it. They traded tales of teaching, something that was always endlessly hilarious. Killian told her about other weddings he'd attended and it made her see him in a different light - a lonely, solitary one. Emma was enraptured as she always was by the way he spoke - confidently and humorously. He was quite entertaining in the quirkiest of ways, but she expected nothing less.

Eventually, the taunting that always snuck its way into their interactions came into play. She'd toss a pillow at him when he said something awful and he'd nudge her with his foot when she was taking one of his jokes too hard. His eyes lit up brilliant blue when he made her laugh and she found herself warmed by the way he seemed to take pride in such a thing.

After a bit, they settled into a cozy silence. It was almost as if he could stay - she could fall asleep and never think twice....wait, stop. She blinked her eyes a few times, trying to coax herself back to reality. He furrowed his eyebrows at her action, but he seemed to get some kind of message loud and clear as he moved to stand. She found herself strangely disappointed at the thought of him leaving.

"Well, unless you're planning on making sure I have a clean shirt for tomorrow," he began with a stretch. "I better get home and do some laundry."

"Keep dreaming, Jones."

"Is that not what pretend girlfriends do? Hell, I'm getting shafted here."

She smacked him playfully on the chest and as she went to pull away, he tried to nudge her back, but instead he caught her hand. She froze, but then lifted her face up to look at him. His eyes were wide and honest. He was looking for something in her gaze and although she knew exactly what it was, she was not going to give anything away. He sensed the way she withdrew and reluctantly let go of her hand. What the hell was _that?_

"I suppose you're right," he said, playing the whole thing off. "My plaid shirts are my responsibility."

Emma laughed self consciously and he narrowed his eyes at her with a soft smile. He started toward the door and as he began to push it open, she realized she didn't want him to leave without her voice offering some semblance of appreciation that he'd stopped by.

"Killian," she said softly as he turned back to face her. "Thoreau. You asked - it's Thoreau I guess. It's just something about how he left everything to discover something - to find himself....even though it meant living alone in a hidden place. It's like he was-"

"Brave?"

Emma pursed her lips as Killian finished her sentence. He looked at her with a simplicity she'd seen a few times before - the expression that told her he quite frankly _adored_ her in a way she couldn't quite understand.

"Exactly," Emma confirmed, nodding her head softly without breaking eye contact. "I guess he was."

"Well," Killian said, moving into her space. "I must say it's....fitting."

She held her breath a moment as she waited for him to move - for him to do something. He moved a bit closer, his hand bumping against her fingers. She laughed softly at the contact and he offered a half smile in return. The bright plea in his eyes made her blush and before she knew it, he was inching slowly closer. He bit his lower lip, clearly displaying what he had in mind. This was a _bad_ idea and she _should_ stop it. Killian's smooth lips parted and Emma began to close her eyes when suddenly a skipping needle signified the end of that side of the record. The sound snapped the tension and they both pulled back. He gasped with surprise. She knew he had been just as affected by the unexpected intensity of that moment as she had.

"I, uh," he began, his breath hitching in his throat. "I should go. See you at school tomorrow?"

"Yeah, um," Emma replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, I'll see you then."

He slipped out the door and she watched him descend down the steps. When he reached the sidewalk, he looked over his shoulder at her as she stood in the doorway. Normally he'd wink or make some other flirty gesture that would get a rise out of her, but not this time. This time he gave her a thankful, trusting, sweet smile - one that had her blushing long after he disappeared from view.

As Emma closed the door and clicked the lock, she slid down the wood and dropped to the floor. What had just happened?! More importantly, what _could_ have happened? That was not how this was supposed to go. She let her head fall backwards, meeting the surface behind her as she tried to take a deep breath. It was then that she noticed he'd left the bag.

She lifted herself up and plopped back down on the couch, pleased to feel the body warmth he'd left behind. He'd left the jacket again - of _course_ he had. _Damn you, Jones,_ she thought as she pulled the bag across the wood floor and rustled it open. On top of whatever was inside, she found a note.

_For the matrimonial purposes, I need your opinion on these....although I must ask you to remember to picture me with these ON instead of the much more entertaining alternative. -KJ_

She rolled her eyes and reached in the bag to find a tailored gray pair of slacks and a pristine white dress shirt with a black skinny tie draped through the hanger. At the bottom of the bag, there was a matching suitcoat that had been pressed and although his intentions were honorable, it was now a bit wrinkly.

He'd _seriously_ gone out and bought new clothes for this. No, not just new clothes, but handsome _fitted_ new clothes. What the hell was _happening_ with this plan?

She returned the items to the bag, making a mention note to iron and/or get them dry cleaned later - wait, had that been his intention here? That _snake_. She shook her head and located her phone on the kitchen counter, opening the message screen as she wandered down the hallway to her bedroom.

_Emma: I thought we talked about this laundry issue. Now you're leaving your 'professionalism' all over the place. Better be careful, Jones - wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea about you._

She laughed at her own sass as she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Pulling her hair up out of her face, she slipped into a t-shirt and shorts before she landed in bed. She was just laying down when her phone chimed.

_Killian: I've always hoped you'd get all kinds of wrong ideas about me, love. I was actually hoping that you'd tote that insufferable apparel to Boston - you know how irresponsible I can be._

She smiled at his late night flirt. It was strangely intimate to be laying in bed, texting this incorrigible man.

_Emma: You're asking me to babysit your clothes for you?_

_Killian: I'm asking you to see if they are appropriate - not the same thing. If by some form of irony you end up mulling them over for long that you have to carry them along with your things to the city then so be it :)_

_Emma: Ha-ha, fine. If we ever make a deal again, we really should work out the logistics a bit more._

_Killian: Your error, love - not mine._

_Emma: Goodnight, Killian :)_

_Killian: One last thing, darling?_

_Emma: Yes?_

_Killian: I have to go with the Grimms' brothers in reference to preferred literature._

_Emma: Fairytales, huh?_

_Killian: What can I say - I'm a sucker for a happy ending :)_

Emma set her phone on the nightstand with a chuckle, running her hands over her face. She spent the next hour or so tossing and turning while doing her best to picture Killian's new fancy clothes in the _bag_ \- not on him or god _knows_ where else.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go :) dun, dun, dun. All rights and characters belong to OUAT.

The next forty eight hours were highly likely to trudge on mercilessly. Emma was a wreck of emotions - nervous, confused, excited. It was luck of the draw on how she'd feel at any given hour of the day - okay, honestly, any _minute_ of the day.

As much as she needed to create a bit of space from Killian so she could clear her head before they spent a weekend together, that plan was demolished by about 7:42 on Thursday morning.

"Swan," he said, huffing and puffing as he fell into her classroom with two cups of coffee in hand. "Do you have any idea the type of bureaucratic riffraff that infects the diner on Thursday mornings? It was like a poorly executed political debate wrapped up in a commercial for terrible men's haircuts."

"Wow, Jones," she laughed at his description. "Interested in teaching descriptive language to junior high kids? Quite the detailed explanation, sir."

"Depends - are you going to.... _mentor_ me?"

He raised his eyebrows in same too-hot-to-handle Killian Jones style that she should be used to by now. She definitely _should_ be. Yet for some reason on this particular morning, those flirty words were creating a mess of huge winged butterflies in her stomach.

"As much as I'd just _love_ that," she taunted, taking the steaming beverage from his equally warm hand. "I'm afraid taming your overconfident self is just outside my field of knowledge and ability."

"Think what you want, love," he shrugged, hopping up onto the counter and swinging his feet back and forth like a child. "Speaking of knowledge, I think we probably need to brush up on the biographical account of the love story that is Killian Jones and Emma Swan before part one of the big wedding escapade."

" _Now?_ "

"No," he laughed, shaking his head. "As much as I'd love to be a nuisance in your classroom today, I'd hate to.... _distract_ you. So, tomorrow after school?"

Emma watched his suddenly hopeful expression as a pit formed in her stomach. She was playing with fire. She knew that. Things were getting far too comfortable - somewhat drifting out of control. Emma _needed_ that control. She couldn't afford to lose it to the wits, charms, and drilling blue eyes of Killian Jones.

"Ummm, well," she stuttered, flipping through her plan book as she read nothing. "Maybe - I, uh, I have a few things to get done...."

"Well," he said, pursing his lips at her obvious discomfort. "Let me know, yeah?"

"Okay - yeah, I will."

"Emma?"

"Yeah?"

He had moved the the door and he stood in the frame as he stared back at her. His eyes were pleading as he ran his tongue lightly across his lips and attempted a small smile.

"Have an exceptional day."

Emma's heart sank as she watched him walk out. She sighed heavily as she dropped a heavy head onto her folded arms. She was the worst. As she lifted her eyes to the cup straight in her line of vision and she noticed a few words etched into black Sharpie.

_"All good things are wild and free." -HDT  
It's as I said, love. Quite fitting._

Emma felt her eyes crinkle at the edges as a grin split up and across her face. She couldn't help but imagine Killian analyzing her through famous quotations - through the accounts of her favorite literary figure. As the first bell was about to sound, she grabbed her phone.

_Emma: How does six thirty sound?_

###### 

He'd confirmed her time arrangement by instant message on her computer late that afternoon just when school had dismissed. She instantly cursed the moment the school had forced them to implement the computer program.

**Jones, Killian:** I must say I was surprised by the quick change of heart. I assumed you would force me to pout for at least a few hours. 

**Swan, Emma** : What can I say - stolen inspirational quotes have that effect on me. 

**Jones, Killian** : I prefer 'borrowed'. Do you assume I'm a thief because I'm well on my way to stealing your heart? 

**Swan, Emma** : Wow, that one was cheesy - even for you. 

**Jones, Killian** : See you tomorrow, Swan :) 

She logged out with a stupid smile. He was so adorably infuriating. She wasn't sure what to do with it....or about it.

###### 

He'd never said where they were meeting or what they were doing. Emma realized this as she packed up her things to leave school the next day. She had assumed that since he had asked her, he would have some scheme cooked up already. She pulled her bag over her shoulder and locked up her classroom. She was curious about this conversation he wanted to have. He had been very nonchalant about the whole thing - about everything honestly. She pushed open the glass door with her free shoulder and began a text message with the coordinating hand.

_Emma: So where-_

"I always knew you were a workaholic, but six _thirty_ on a _Friday?_ Planning on bridging the achievement gap solo, love?"

He never ceased to amaze her with his gallant, no-holds-barred way of acting like he owned the place. He was currently perched on the hood of her car, laying back against the windshield with his feet crossed at the ankles. He'd switched clothes from his earlier rare khakis and slate gray shirt to a gray t-shirt, blue zip-up hoodie, annoyingly attractive jeans, and those ridiculous moccasins. He smirked when she rolled her eyes at him and the relief of the weekend crossed her lips in a simple grin.

"Didn't mean to keep you waiting, Jones."

"Nonsense," he said, hopping down and moving to take her things in a most gentlemanly way. "Never a hassle to wait for you, Swan."

"Good to know I'm free to waste your time," she laughed, handing over the bag that she'd normally insist on carrying herself. "Are we planning on carrying out this conversation in the parking lot of our place of employment?"

"Of course not," he quirked. "I just had to make sure you'd _truly_ leave work when you said you would."

Emma was notoriously for throwing herself into her work without regard to time. She found it interesting that he was so cognizant of that fact.

"So," he continued as he opened her car door. "I'll let you run home for a bit and I will fetch us something to eat. Can you meet me at the boathouse at say - seven thirty?"

"The _boathouse_? Like the one just past where you live?"

"Yes," he grinned at her confusion. "Just - trust me, okay?"

Emma found that though she hadn't planned on it, she did.

###### 

Emma found herself on the top ledge of the boathouse, just under the rafters and just after a nerve wracking, steep climb. She watched Killian scale the wood beams like it was nothing as he tugged the ropes of an old canvas sail that seem to be a makeshift roof for that area of the building. Once untied, he pulled hard on the ropes and began to roll the sail to the left. It was still slightly daylight out, but because darkness had begun to ascend, Emma was able to see the sparse twinkling of stars through a few scattered clouds. The few steps they'd scaled had put them in a place that seemed so much closer to the sky. She was free to see the sunset meet the night from a whole new point of view. She knew she'd been wearing a look of awe when she turned to face him as his own smile reflected hers. He had a reason for bringing her here - like he'd really wanted _her_ to see it.

"Killian....wow," she said without realizing her breathy use of his first name. "It's so....I mean _wow_."

"It's better once it gets darker. Ready to eat and talk strategy?"

It seemed like he'd just enlightened her with some sort of personal and perhaps romanticized gesture. Emma felt herself slouch a bit at the thought of getting back to business.

"Okay, Swan," he said, passing her a sub sandwich that he'd picked up from the local bakery as they sat on cushions lining the floor. "Where did we meet?"

"Hmmmm. _Not_ school. But perhaps something teaching related since we do share the profession."

"The New York conference," he mused, trying not to laugh. "But perhaps the one from the previous year so it won't look like we are too serious too fast."

 _Uh, yeah - talk about acting_ , Emma thought.

"So that would put us at dating for a little longer than a year," Emma calculated. "So it's serious?"

"Do you want it to be?"

She paused at his question. She was walking a thin line. She tried to be rational. She tried to be realistic. Yes, those were the reasons - the _only_ reasons she nodded her head in reply.

"So," he said slowly, lifting an eyebrow. "Are we in love?"

Whoa. There it was. She hadn't thought about this particular question which is probably why it blindsided her like a bus. She pondered the man in front of her - full of his own mystery but still strangely interested in hers.

"I, uh, I guess," she stammered. "Should we be?"

"Okay," he said simply as if they were discussing nothing but the weather. "Love it is."

They began to clear up a few other details - names of family members plus favorite this and that preferences. It wasn't long into that chat when Emma felt water drop onto her arm. She peered up at the sky and noticed that the stars weren't as visible as Killian had claimed they'd be, but instead there were several dark, looming storm clouds.

"Hey, Romeo," she said, pointing up. "I am fairly sure it's raining."

"What? Oh _please_ , Swan, no it's not."

He flinched quickly at a drop that fell on his cheek. He looked so surprised in the cutest way - Emma began to laugh softly, but it quickly escalated to muffled hysterics as the rain began to fall. She covered her mouth, attempting to hide the hilarity she found at observing a flustered Killian. He gathered their things as he smiled at her happiness, even though it was at the expense of his plan.

"I'd say I hate to rain on your parade, but that would be a total cliche," Emma teased as she tried to regain composure. "You should truly watch the weather."

"Ha-ha, Swan," he replied, poking her ribs playfully. "Let's get out of here."

Killian climbed down the scattered steps to the boathouse floor like it was something he'd done thousands of times. Emma, however, had been weary of it before. Now, with the rain added to the equation, she was having a hell of a time visualizing herself stepping down the slippery stairs. He read her expression like a well known story - as always.

"Oh, who's laughing _now_ , love?"

"Oh shut up," Emma said shakily, a slight shiver starting to fall on her shoulders. "Some of us were not lemurs in another life."

He must have seen the slight fear in her features. He lifted a hand up to help her. She gave him a questioning look and he simply nodded with a coaxing smile as if to say he'd catch her if she were to fall. She hesitated a moment, but as the water pounded the building harder, she decided to suck it up and fall back into the dangerous vicinity of Killian Jones.

His hand was firm - a guiding force as she navigated the steps carefully. Water rolled off his skin and down his face as they found themselves in a torrential downpour. Her blonde tendrils gathered the rain as they matted together, falling on her shoulders. She felt herself staring at his dark, wet hair and his blue, blue eyes that had been magnified beautifully by the weather. The world seemed to slow to a halt as he grasped her hand to pull her down. The last step was the biggest and though Emma would have conquered it just fine, he wasn't going to allow it. Both of his hands moved to her waist, beginning at her ribs and then sliding down her wet sweater to her hips. He gripped her firmly, locking his eyes to hers as he lifted and then lowered her body to the ground. It wasn't lost on Emma that he was standing recklessly close to her or that the rain was causing his clothes to adhere to his body in a way that accentuated every muscle on his torso. He didn't move his hands or his eyes and Emma found herself powerless to shift her gaze as well.

"Emma."

His voice was shaky and discordant. He seemed to be asking something while saying nothing, but Emma didn't dare reply. Instead, she shivered and he moved closer as if to protect her from the chill that was not quite cold enough for that type of contact. She had to do something - say something.

"Yeah?"

"There's one thing we should address before this conversation is closed."

"Killian, seriously," she laughed, suddenly warmer although the rain continued to pour. "Right now? In the rain?"

"Yes."

His eyes were flirty but stone cold serious. She wondered if she could be correct - if she knew where this was going....

"Okay," she began, trying to appear not so interested. "What's the detail that's so incessantly urgent?"

"I think I should kiss you."

Emma froze - and it wasn't because of the storm's precipitation. She should laugh and play it off like a joke. Why on earth would he think that was necessary? His eyes looked practical, but she wondered if there wasn't an ulterior motive lurking. 

"Because if we are going to make this real - make this _look_ real," he said, reading her thoughts. "I'm going to need to know how to kiss you."

Emma was speechless and _that_ did not happen often. He was right. Kissing would help make it believable. It was part of this game - this planned, discussed ruse. It wasn't real. 

She couldn't move. It was as if his burning, desire filled eyes were locking her in place. She let out a breathy sigh - one that sounded like a slight laugh as she shifted her eyes downward, away from his tempting look. As she tried to do so, his finger caught the underside of her chin, stopping her and lifting her face back to his. In that moment, she saw a whole new desire in his stare - he wanted her to trust him. He wanted her to let him in. She screamed internally at her conflicting interests in doing just that - or bolting.

"Killian, we are going to catch our deaths out here."

"Well then," he said with a small smile, signaling that he wasn't going to give up that easily. "Then let's get you inside."

###### 

He took her hand in a way that was totally unnecessary and pulled her back out into the rain. They ran across the parking lot together as he begged her to go faster, mostly so he could link his arm through hers. She was drenched by the time they reached the building across the lot and Killian was laughing like a mad man as he pushed the wet hair off his forehead. Emma gasped for breath as she wiped the makeup under her eyes that she was sure had to running down her face.

"Coffee, love?"

"I'd love some," she smiled. "But we are soaked."

"Not an issue. I know the guy who owns this place."

They walked inside, a little bell chiming above their heads. Standing on the rug, they began trying to rid themselves of water when a hearty laugh came from across the room.

"Killian, my boy," a sweet, happy older man beamed. "I always knew you were a sailor, but you look like you fell off the boat!"

"Marco, hey," Killian grinned as he shivered. "Coffee?"

"Yes, yes, come sit," he waved them into the room as he smiled at Emma. "You must be a patient woman to be in company with this scoundrel."

Emma laughed as Killian shrugged sheepishly. Marco brought them two cups of wonderfully hot coffee as they found two chairs by the window with the best view of the harbor - well as good as the view could be when it was pitch black out. They carried on over several cups of espresso and fresh apple pie. The place was vacant which allowed Marco time to catch up with Killian while endlessly praising Emma for being a good influence on the Irishman. She laughed the entire night - endlessly and genuinely. She felt so light, so carefree....and she didn't miss the way Killian was watching her. His eyes had landed on her lips from the moment they sat down and although they shifted to her eyes once or twice, they always returned to the curve of her mouth.

By the time Marco was ready to close up, they had dried off completely and Killian held his hoodie out for Emma to put on. She tried to refuse but he cornered her with his gaze and she caved. His hair stuck up handsomely in many directions as it had finally dried and he grinned successfully as they exited the shop, his hand at her lower back.

The rain had stopped, but the evidence remained on the sidewalk. A slight chill nipped at Emma's cheek as Killian walked her to her car. She stopped when she reached her car door and as she turned, she remembered the last time they had stood in almost this exact spot. He gave her an intent half smile, clearly remembering it as well.

"Well," she said, stopping for a moment.

"Yes," he replied, his eyes still focused. "Well."

"So tomorrow - you'll pick me up right?"

He nodded wordlessly and Emma felt herself brainstorming ideas for what to say to fill in for his lack of speech.

"So Killian," she began softly, somewhat oblivious to the way he moved closer at the use of his name. "Do you think we can really pull this off?"

He lifted his eyebrows at her as if to ask if she was serious. She felt the heat radiating from his body and she paused - she really needed to know.

"Think we can actually make this look real, Jones?"

It all happened in less than a split second. At her question, Killian had closed the gap between them as he cupped her jaw with both hands. His lips fused to hers, pouring every ounce of tension into the kiss and begging her to kiss him back. It took her a moment, but she finally did as she placed a soft hand against his chest. It was passionate and _completely_ expected in a way that Emma would probably deny. They moved like it was real, heads tilting in a synchronized manner as their hands followed familiar yet unfamiliar patterns. He finally pulled back with a gasp as looked predatorily into her eyes. She was trying to piece things together as she began to drown in the cerulean blue of his gaze.

"Yes, I do," he whispered in a low tone. "I think we can make this as real as you want it to be."

Emma's mind was swimming as she absorbed his reply. What was going on here - and what the _hell_ had just happened?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay sorry this one took a little longer to post! It was the grading deadline this week :( but now it's done and I have a whole four day weekend to write! Watch for more soon. As always, all rights & characters belong to OUAT.

That's it. Case closed. She was _not_ going. Emma sighed loudly at her over dramatic decision, knowing that of course it wasn't the slightest bit true. She had been laying in bed for hours and trying to focus her mind on the rather dull looking ceiling instead of the forty eight hours that would follow the restless night. She rolled slightly to look at the bright green digits that offered the time. 2:14 - and yes, that was referring to in the morning. She sighed again.

The night with Killian and his unexpected rainstorm had wedged a huge thorn in their upcoming ruse. She had bounced back and forth between emotions from the second she walked through her front door. She was definitely surprised - that was the most obvious and easily explained one. Yet she had also been mad - correction, furious - at him for just kissing her like that and complicating things but also at herself....for not stopping it. She wasn't sure how she had allowed it to happen. Normally her guard was dependable and set so high that nobody stood a chance. She rolled to her side, trying desperately to convince herself that Killian Jones was included in that group of nobodies.

Within the following thirty minutes or so, Emma resigned herself to the facts. She was going to this wedding. She was going with Killian Jones. Nothing had changed - except he had kissed her. Good god, he had _kissed_ her. Despite all the thoughts crowding her mind, the over thinking was quickly making her exhausted and her eyes began to get a bit heavy. As some semblance of sleep formed, she found herself lost between the memory of Killian's honest, heart wrenching smile and the overbearingly honest fact that the first time would likely not be the only time.

###### 

She slept later than she'd wanted to. It wasn't her fault that he had plagued her late night thoughts.... _and_ dreams. It wasn't as if the dreams were so realistically good she didn't _want_ to wake up - okay, maybe it was. Running late was typically a situation that flustered Emma in the worst way, but today the hurried packing and mental planning gave her a place to focus her energy. The last thing she should be doing was preparing for the scrutinous and equally seductive looks that would be exchanged during a car ride that suddenly seemed way too long.

 _Speaking of distractions_ , Emma thought as she grabbed her school bag. She unzipped it ceremoniously to find the stack of book reports she had toted home. She didn't know if she'd ever been this thankful for To Kill a Mockingbird or mediocre student writing before, but her gratitude now swelled at the possibility of drowning in her work during the car ride. It sure as hell beat floundering in the crystal blue eyes of Killian Jones. She found herself submerged in the question of the day - what does one wear to the dreaded meeting with a man who was not supposed to kiss her but had? He had. Yep, _definitely_ had. _Hard_. Her room looked like the Land of Oz in the aftermath of a cyclone with clothes tossed everywhere. The clock was ticking away and she wouldn't be gaining more time any time soon. She'd tried the overly dressed look the other night when he'd stopped by - which clearly did _not_ work - and she wasn't keen on wearing anything too warm to Boston. She settled on a navy and white striped shirt with a scarf she'd picked up in New York. Black leggings would be cozy and simple....and not too suggestive perhaps. Oh well - she didn't have any more time to waste searching the depths of her closet and she'd just end up changing for the party anyway. She thought back to the plan - the original one - and tried to rehearse any details she could recall. One year, the New York conference, love....love....they were supposed to be in love. Ugh, dammit. She stared at the clock, anxious to waste as much time as possible before their two o'clock departure. Why the hell are we leaving so damn early?! She reluctantly slipped on her sandals and eyed the suspiciously nice weather just outside of her window. Finally, she took a deep breath, tugged her suitcase behind her, and clicked the lock into the downward position as she braved the daylight that was sure to light up more than just the sky.

###### 

Emma had insisted on driving her car to his house and leaving it parked there. She didn't feel as if it would be wise to back herself into a corner that could end with him walking her to her front door on Sunday when they returned. Plus, he had room obviously at his lovely little mansion. _Quite the 'treasure' hoarding scoundrel,_ she thought as she recalled the time she had accused him of mutiny via text message. She bit her lip as she rounded the small avenue that led to his frustratingly _stunning_ home. A frown crossed her lips as she pulled into the driveway next to the unforeseen presence of a newer looking truck.

It wasn't Killian's - at least not to her knowledge. However, she hadn't known of his financial state until just recently. Maybe he did have two vehicles. She was using her rambling brain to stall the inevitable. _Just get out of the freaking car and get this over with,_ she mentally scolded herself.

She should knock. People do that, right? She raised a hand to the sleek wood of the front door as she berated herself for being so childish. _It will be fine_ , she reminded herself in a most unconvincing manner.

She had tried to prepare herself for her first look on this new day at Killian's presence. She may have even been able to withstand it to the point of somewhat functioning. She, however, was oddly surprised at the curly haired, brown eyed boy who lugged the front door open. He stared at her kindly, clearly wondering who she was. Emma found herself curious about the same question, but in regards to him.

"Hello."

He said it so simply, as if her seeing him at the home of this incessantly interesting man was nothing out of the ordinary. A small smirk quirked up Emma's lips as she allowed herself to revel in the fact that this particular encounter was much less intimidating than the one she'd been expecting.

"Hello to you, too," she said, her eyes brightening. "I don't know if we've met. I'm Emma."

"I'm Roland," he replied, pushing the door open further as he beckoned her to come in. "I don't live here. I just get to answer the door sometimes."

"Well, I'm sure glad you did," she laughed softly as she realized that he wouldn't understand how true that was. "Are you here to visit? Is your dad here?"

She retrieved the knowledge of Robin's son, the one Killian was quite close to. He was a lanky little kid with an adorable smile and some of the deepest dimples she'd ever seen. His dark brown curls fell on his head in every direction as he shoved the front entrance closed behind her. He looked at her with interested eyes, a curious brown laid with long eyelashes.

"My dad is outside with Killian," he told her, hopping along to the couch. "He's letting us take the boat today. He isn't coming though. He's going on a trip."

"I know he is," she replied, wandering to where he was sitting. "He's actually going to Boston with me."

"Why?"

"Well, I have some friends who are getting married," she began, trying to avoid description of the term 'date' or worse yet 'fake date'. "He's going to come with me to the wedding."

"Oh," he said thoughtfully. "I've never been to a wedding before. Are you Killian's girlfriend?"

Oh hell. _Here we go_ , Emma thought. She scrambled to find an excuse or an explanation when quite beyond fortunately, she was saved by Roland's father. She half expected Robin to let Roland torture her with this quite interesting yet unnecessary question. She decided he must not have heard - it was the only reason he'd rescue her from the little boy's curious eyes.

"Roland, you know better than to talk to strangers," Robin teased, ruffling his son's hair. "I have to say, son, that there is definitely no one as strange as _this_ particular stranger."

Roland furrowed his little eyebrows at her, confused about his father's comment. Emma, however, was once again less than amused by his shenanigans.

"Hi, Robin," she acknowledged with a feigned annoyance.

"Lady Swan," he nodded confidently. "Always a pleasure. I assume Killian should be along momentarily. Big weekend for the pair of you, eh?"

She lifted an eyebrow at his implication. She wondered just how much and what exactly Killian _had_ shared with his best friend. Robin's smug grin confirmed that it was more than just a basic explanation.

"Come on, Roland," Robin said, waving his son to his side. "Killian said your life jacket is in the garage so let's go grab it and then we can be out of the way."

Emma smiled genuinely at Roland as he ran ahead of his dad to a side door. The two seemed to share quite the bond. It was heartwarming to see - they only had each other left is what Killian had hinted at. She'd never imagined that Robin was the leader of such a life. It shed quite a gratuitous light on her perspective of him.

"Hey Swan."

Emma felt the color drain from her cheeks and her legs freeze solid as the greeting from a ways behind her entered her ears. She had to turn around. She had to play it cool. She could do this.

She was totally and completely unprepared. Killian smiled slightly at her, his blue eyes alight with some emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on. He looked casual - same dark jeans, leather boat shoes, and a plaid shirt that matched the color currently staring a hole right through her. His hair was tousled, but it always was. She watched him toss a rolled up rope - probably from the boat - to the floor as he brushed his hands off. She felt a mass of words tangle in her throat as he began to roll up his sleeves, waiting for her.

"Hi."

Their awkward but stubbornly sweet interaction was interrupted suddenly by a rather animated Roland. He came running across the hard wood, orange life vest in tow. Emma heard his outrageously adorable laugh as he made his way to Killian - who currently had a huge grin and an excited posture. Oh no - no, no, _no._

"Killian! Look!"

He was holding up his life jacket as if he'd discovered gold as he ran a quick circle around his makeshift uncle. Killian, creating the exact melt-my-heart scene she'd wanted to avoid seeing, snatched the little boy's arm and lifted him up above his head as he attempted to tickle him. Roland roared with giggles and happiness. _Damn you, Jones_ , Emma thought as she smirked at the two.

"Alright, my boy," Killian said, setting Roland back down carefully. "Will you take care of my boat for me while I'm away? I don't know that I trust your papa with such an important job?"

 _Papa?_ Like _seriously?_ Good god. The blush on Emma's cheeks was quickly becoming too much.

"Okay," Roland said, his laugh ceasing. "I'll make sure he's careful."

"That's my boy," Killian said, messing with Roland's hair. "Glad I can count on you."

Robin and Killian exchanged a few last words - mostly about Killian being overly and ridiculously protective of his boat. Robin nodded and rolled his eyes a few times before gathering his son and exchanging a sarcastic _'bon voyage'_ with his colleagues. Once they'd left, Emma found the room shrinking as she knew now she was really alone with Killian. She racked her brain for what to do next. Luckily, Killian didn't miss a beat as he turned to look at her, crossing the room to where his suitcase stood by the door.

"Ready to go?"

###### 

As she buckled herself in the front seat and examined the flawless interior around her, Emma realized she had never actually seen the inside of Killian's car. There would be no reason that she had to this point - they had only really seen each other at work. _Apparently, we're past that now,_ Emma thought as she sighed internally. She heard the trunk click shut as Killian finished loading their bags and she jumped a bit when he opened the driver's side door to get in. Luckily, it didn't appear that he'd noticed. In fact, it sort of seemed like he was trying _not_ to notice anything. Emma tried not to think about it as she moved her hand in the school bag near her feet, feeling around for the stack of essays she brought along to keep her mind off him - his smell, his touch. Yes, that's what grading papers was for in this case. Killian backed the car out of the driveway cautiously and as he set it in gear, Emma searched her bag for a red pen.

"Sorry about that with Robin and Roland," he mentioned, a small smile on his lips. "Roland likes to sail and I try to take him out a few Saturdays a month."

"I hope this whole thing is okay with them," Emma replied with a hint of guilt in her tone. "I don't want to offset your plans with him. He seems like a good kid."

"He is," Killian grinned. "I think he likes you."

"Why on earth would you think that?"

"Just a hunch," he said offhandedly. "Just seems like it is all."

She wasn't sure, but Killian's remark made her quite sure that Roland had at some point asked him a similar question as well. _Oh, kids,_ she thought.

The drive along the beautiful coastline was made even more pleasant by the deflated awkwardness that quickly filled the car. Killian seemed to have a knack for this - a suave, charming way of smoothing things over. Give their past, she shouldn't have been that surprised.

They settled into a patterned game of twenty questions where Emma had learned a few snippets about Killian that only made her more curious about this lighthearted, endearing man chauffeuring them to "the city on the hill" - as David called it. Emma made a mental note to act cool about the 'plus one' situation. This had to be real - no it had to _look_ real. She had to make it believable.

"Swan, you mean to tell me you've lived this close to the ocean your entire life and you've never been out in open water on an actual boat?!"

"Okay sailor, you don't have to torment me about it. Not all of us have waterfront property and mysterious amounts of money to our name."

He smirked at her cute, defensive use of his first name. That stupid little smile he kept giving her had to _stop._

"Just wish I'd know sooner, love," he shrugged with a laugh. "Roland has already called dibs on "Set Sail Saturday", but given his liking to you, he might be okay with you tagging along. However, I'm also open to Sundays, Swan. Best day for sailing in my opinion."

"Is there some clever nickname you have for that day as well? A sassy adjective you'd like to conjure up?"

"Adjectives are more your thing, darling," he smiled, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. "But I'll think on it."

She tried not to grin at the flirting that had returned so quickly. She also noted the way that the pile of essays didn't make an appearance but instead remained securely in her bag right next to where she should have stowed her ridiculous worries about this trip.

###### 

They had been so enthralled in their teasing conversation that Emma barely noticed the way the car crossed the city limits into Boston. They were _early_ \- the party wasn't until seven and it had only hit just past four. Oh great. Now what?

"Just going to stop for some fuel, love," he said, reading her mind. "You packed my suit right?"

"Of course," she rolled her eyes. "It's in the _very_ fancy suit bag that I put on top of the luggage."

He winked as he went to open the trunk. Emma winced at the exchange - that had been a bit too 'married' sounding for her. She jumped slightly when he pulled the door open again.

"Hey, uh, Swan?"

"....yeah?"

"I can't find my tie," he said, peeking in the bag and scratching behind his ear. "Did you pack it when you put the suit in this bag?"

 _Dammit._ The replay of her morning flashed through her mind - and there was the tie, draped over the back of the couch.

"Hold on," she said, holding a finger up and grabbing her phone. "I can fix this."

Their eyes locked in the way they had many times before as Emma waited for an answer from the person she was calling. Killian's gaze was one of admiration - he seemed quite surprised with her lack of stressing in this situation, especially as he knew of the events to come that night and her lofty concerns that had landed him here with her. She felt oddly calm. She supposed he had a hand in that and _that_ fact was the one that gave her _real_ anxiety. The gas pump clicked off and he slipped her a wink as he went to finish fueling up. Emma's self conscious expression was interrupted quickly by the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Thank you for calling 'Hat Trick Tailors' - this is Jefferson. How can I help you?"

"Hey Jeff. It's Emma - Swan. I, uh, I have a favor to ask."

###### 

Thank god she still maintained a few contacts in the city. Well, they were definitely _neglected_ connections - but connections nonetheless. Jefferson and David had remained good friends throughout the years so Emma assumed he knew all about the wedding. Since time would be dwindling by the time they made it to the shop and then to the hotel, she'd told him what she needed on the phone - a skinny, black tie to match an _achingly_ handsome light gray suit. She couldn't recall for sure, but she truly hoped she'd left out the overly descriptive extra details.

"Well if it isn't Emma Swan," Jefferson said with a memorable grin as she walked through the entrance to the shop with Killian just behind her. "I was wondering if a celebration of Dave's matrimony would be enough to drag you home."

She smirked and shook her head at him, a happy sigh escaping her lips. Jefferson craned his neck to lay eyes on Killian. _Okay, here we go_ , she thought hopefully. It's like a test drive.

"Jeff, this is Killian. He's, uh-"

"The man in need of the tie I presume," Jefferson nodded, extending an arm for a handshake. "Good to meet you - and even better to see Emma Swan actually dating someone."

"You as well. Thanks for helping us out on such short notice," Killian replied, playfully glanced toward Emma. "It seems as if my girlfriend has yet to perfect the art of packing clothes efficiently."

 _Girlfriend?_ She hadn't expected that word to tie such a knot in her stomach. But that had been the plan all along, right? Why was it so strange to hear it? He raised his eyebrows at her as Jefferson chuckled softly. His eyes seems to ask if the use of the term was acceptable - if he was allowed to use it in these new conversations with those from Emma's past. She forced herself to smile in confirmation as her nerves continued to spike.

"Here we are," Jefferson said, lifting a tie that matched the description she gave him. "Here's a dress shirt if you'd like to try it on before you head out. I'm guessing the one you've got is also white?"

"Yeah, uh," Killian stammered, suddenly a bit tongue tied as he took the tie and shirt. "But, yeah, it's okay really. I really don't have to-"

"Killian, come on," Emma whined, missing the anxiety in his eyes. "Just real quick."

He gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he entered a nearby dressing room. Emma silently thanked the high heavens that he hadn't just slipped out of his shirt right there. She remembered walking in on that once before in his classroom and as she reminisced, a blush colored her cheeks.

Killian walked out a moment later - dress shirt buttoned but untucked as it hung past the waist of his jeans and a sheepish, very uncomfortable smile on his face. The black tie hung loose around his neck, perfect to go with his suit yet currently still undone. Emma furrowed her eyebrows at him in question.

"Should work fine, Swan. We better get going."

His speech was hurried as if he wanted nothing more than for this moment to end. She caught it then - the hidden hint of _embarrassment_ \- and it suddenly clicked in her head. The attractive, provocative, charismatic Killian Jones didn't know _how_ to properly tie a tie. The whirl of flannel shirts and moccasins in her head seemed to make much more sense now.

"It _will_ work fine," she chanced kindly. "But I have to get the full effect first."

She walked to where he stood nervously and invaded his space the way he'd done to her several times in the past. His face looked hesitant and she sensed he may pull back so she took action, grabbing the ends of the tie and pulling him gently to her. She kept him at a reasonable distance, but they were close enough for her to hear his labored breathing. She smoothed the ends and looked up at him to find trusting, fierce blue eyes returning her gaze.

 _Okay, the half Windsor knot_ , she thought to herself. _Let's see - first goes the wide over narrow and take the wide around and then behind-_

"How'd you learn how to do this?"

Emma's hands froze a moment. She had learned from her mother who used to tie her father's every morning - despite his ability to do it on his own. She wasn't about to tell Killian that though.

"Well, actually," she began, trying to think of a lie that wasn't a lie. "Someone once told me that a woman should know how to tie a tie to encourage the man to wear a tie. Also, from growing up with David - he's terribly uncoordinated."

Killian smirked as she completed the knot perfectly - even after so many years. She ran a soothing hand down the fabric, a dangerous gesture that she didn't realize she'd completed until she heard his breath hitch.

"Will that one work for you guys?"

Jefferson stuck his head into the conversation with a questioning glance.

"Yes it will," Killian replied, nodding at him and then immediately looking back to Emma. "I think it will work perfectly."

###### 

They were on their way to the hotel in a tension charged car as the simmering tie incident lingered in both of their minds. Emma's phone chimed, jerking her out of her stupor as she noticed the text from Mary Margaret.

_MM: Did you guys make it to town yet?_

_Emma: Yeah, just got in a little while ago. Just heading to the hotel._

She didn't think anyone needed to know about the adventure to Jefferson's shop although she wasn't sure why she felt such a need to keep it secret. Mary Margaret's family was fronting accommodations for the out of town guests - something Emma and her teacher's salary were _quite_ pleased with. The bride's parents had struck fortune somewhere supposedly as they were truly pulling out all the stops by booking everyone at a ritzy, very expensive location downtown.

_MM: Perfect! I'm so excited to see you and your guest :) I'm emailing you the confirmation right now so you can check in and then we will see you at seven!_

_Emma: Sounds good - I will check it out. Thanks! See you soon!_

They were both very lucky that Emma wasn't driving or they would have probably driven into a brick wall at that moment. Her stomach hit the floor as the details of the confirmation loaded. Luxury suite. Two nights. Two guests. _One_ king size bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, phew. Sorry this took so much longer than anticipated! Here it is - I had a harder time writing this one, but I think I've got a good idea of where we're headed so I hope the next one will be up quicker. Thank you all for reading and being so patient! I hope you enjoy :) as always, all rights/characters belong to OUAT.

Emma searched for the phone she'd stupidly buried in her black hole of a purse as chapstick, stray coins, and a few old receipts that had once been in that location littered the bed. Yes - _the_ bed. Singular. The one _freaking_ bed that she was expected to share with Killian Jones, her fake date extraordinare.

A sound announcing a steady stream of running water came from behind the bathroom door. She watched steam peek out from the crack between the barrier and the carpet as she tried to vanquish the thought of a clean, wet Killian. The last time they had been drenched by water had not ended well - or perhaps it ended _very_ well. She supposed it was all a matter of perspective.

She finally located the hidden device and unlocked the screen so she could scroll with unimaginable speed to find and hit Ruby's name. She had to explain this unexpected hotel room situation to someone and Ruby was her only confidant in this case. Emma slipped out onto the deck, closing the door quietly although she highly doubted Killian could hear anything over the relaxing roar of the shower. There was a slight pause and two rings later, she finally answered.

"Why _hello_ , Emma. Did you make it to the big city yet?"

"You can drop the patronizing 'hello'. Yes we are here and we were actually early, but that's a minor problem considering a more pressing one I now have."

"Emma, I have seen the man you coerced into playing pretend for you. I can't see _any_ problem with him."

"No, Ruby.... _ugh_ ," Emma hissed at her friend. "I do have a big problem with him as he is now expected to share a bed with me for the weekend!"

There was a short silence on the end of the other line followed by a subtle, gasping laughter from Ruby. Emma rolled her eyes as she waited for words.

"Em, you can't tell me you didn't expect this. He's your 'boyfriend'. Where else did you think he'd be staying?"

She had a point - a rather annoying but true one. Emma kept trying to remind herself that nobody knew about Killian's fake role except Ruby. She couldn't be mad about the assumption that Mary Margaret had made when booking the rooms.

"This conversation is _not_ over, Ruby."

"I figured not. See you when you get back!"

Emma hit the end call button and scowled out at the bay. Well, here they were. She didn't think this was the best scenario - this hiccup in their accommodations - but it wasn't like they couldn't figure out how to navigate the difficult situation. Between their flirty banters and almost kisses, Emma and Killian had actually become friends of some sort. She had been weary of trusting him. She was weary of trusting _anyone_. There was just something about him. Killian was caring and thoughtful. He was safe - but in the most dangerous way.

She sighed, realizing it was time to handle the whole thing and do what she could to just clear the air already. As she turned on her heels and pulled open the glass door, Emma ran clumsily right into something. Something smooth and wet - which turned out to be Killian's bare chest, fresh from the shower. She froze, her hands still damp with the moisture on his body as heat radiated from his skin. Somewhat in a thinking state, she stepped back fast. Her embarrassed eyes swallowed his horrified ones as she pondered the fact that they'd stood there for a minute or so without a single innuendo. They both waited for the other to say something for what felt like eternity and then all at once the apologies, explanations, and excuses began to flow.

"Killian, oh my _god_ , I'm-I'm so sorry!"

"No, no-it's totally not your....I shouldn't have - I just...."

"I-I really didn't mean to walk in on you. I just-well I was on the phone and I came back in without even thinking what-"

"Nonsense. I should have just put on a shirt before I went, uh....sorry."

The scene must have been a truly hilarious one as they squabbled back and forth, each trying to explain themselves. As she dissected the expectant look on his face, she tried to fight the desire to run - that was her usual reaction to awkward and scary situations like this. She remained stationary and stoic, but suddenly, Killian broke the deafening silence with an amused chuckle of sorts. It really confused Emma at first, but she eventually broke into a laughter matching his. _This_ was the Killian she needed to be at this engagement party. This was the Killian who made her comfortable - the one who made her happy by letting her avoiding those unexplained feelings concealed just under the surface.

"I guess we are both liable for this one," he laughed, shaking his head. "Chalk it up to poor timing."

"Yeah," she smiled in a self conscious way. "It appears that way."

She began to mill about the room as he started to unzip the suit bag, tossing the tie on top. The bedside clock told her that she needed to get ready and she surely wasn't going to stick around for part two of an immodest Killian Jones, but Emma found herself remaining in his presence as if it might assuage any lingering awkwardness. It was a dangerous game - she knew it and it grew more hazardous as she began to notice the way his towel hung on his hips, absorbing the stray droplets of water rolling down his torso.

"Tell you what," he began as he observed his 'fancy' clothes laid out on the comforter. "I will get dressed and presumably decent. Then I can go scope out the hotel and such so you can get ready without me stepping all over your feet."

 _Or me getting too close to your bare ones,_ she thought.

"Oh, uh, okay," Emma replied, not wanting him to see the multiple emotions bursting from within her. "Yeah, that, uh, that works for me."

"Great," he smiled, pulling a white t-shirt over his head. "Meet me in the lobby around 6:30?"

"Okay. That will be....that sounds like a plan."

He was still dressing and sorting through clothes when Emma entered the bathroom, softly closing the door and dropping her forehead against it. She had to figure out a way to get through the night without being such a fumbling idiot.

###### 

She was fairly sure she heard the hotel room door slam as neared the end of her shower. The water ran through her hair, following the rinsing motion of her hands. She'd been trying to sort through solutions and avoiding emotions since she'd entered the bathroom. As stepped from the shower, drying her hair and slipping into a silky robe she'd brought just in case....just in case _what?_ She shook her head at her own stupid thought. 

Looking in the mirror, she realized exactly what she needed to do. Back before all of this - before the drive and the rainstorm and the proposition - she and Killian didn't have these lurking, lusty emotions in regards to one another. Well, at least it was not in a way that was recognizable. The two had bantered and teased, making the life of the other hilariously inconvenient. They had been something Emma would dare call friends or perhaps frenemies if you wanted to be more technical about it. It was safer then - something she could deal with on a day to day basis without melting into a pathetic puddle. So _that_ was what she was going to do. She was going to spend the night dragging Killian back to that point of being infuriating friends. Yes, it _would_ work. She hummed reassurances to herself as she prepped for the big night - dress, heels, make up, and every other formal necessity known to mankind. As she slipped the key card for the room into her clutch, she noticed the 6:37 time on the clock. She smiled to herself as she realized she was slightly late. It was something the old Emma would have done - making Killian pine and wait for her on her own timeline. _Small victories_ , she thought.

As the door swung shut and she started up the hallway, she grinned. Yes. _Screw it,_ she thought. She was going to have fun.

###### 

The dress Emma had chosen was black, white, and would totally coordinate with Killan's suit. She figured if she was going to do this, she may as well lean into it. The little number itself looked as if it had fallen right out of the 1920's and had a satin white top that had a loosely ruffled neck with the pattern continuing down the front in a single column. The top slid down where it became subtly covered by the fitted skirt of the dress. Black and form fitting, the skirt was high waisted, cutting off the ruffles of the top midway down her stomach. The hem hit just above the knee and she hoped it was a garment that would accomplish the mission - to completely torment Killian and help her gain the upper hand again.

She peered into an elaborate mirror just outside of the elevator. Her hair was pulled back into a simple, twisted up-do that set low on head just above the collar of the dress. Her lipstick was deep red and she wore the earrings - yes, _those_ earrings. Holding tight to the gold clutch she brought along, she took a deep breath as she rode the elevator solo to the lobby.

Emma was thankful that her black heels limited her walking speed, but quite less than thankful that they put her at risk of falling all over the man who had yet to notice her. He looked anticipatory in an awfully adorable way, his hands deep in his pockets as he looked around. His shiny black oxfords might as well have been pacing the granite tile, but he seemed against moving - just in case he missed seeing her. She couldn't help but admire the way he looked - she always did when he took the time to dress up like this. Faculty meetings were _quite_ the distraction for her. The suit was attempting to do him justice, gray with the coat unbuttoned. He was definitely a bit antsy - he always seemed that way when he was in such formal attire. She supposed he didn't notice his own behavior when he was trying to act so debonair and she sure as hell wasn't going to tell him. She figured she'd let him think he ran things. His little game always made things more entertaining. 

It wasn't until she moved closer that she noticed something she hadn't expected. His tie. The black one they'd just purchased. It was _tied_. That _bastard_ , she thought.  
Before she could formulate how it has happened, his nervous blue eyes landed on her. His lips parted with the smallest hint of surprise. She hoped it was a pleasant surprise and when she watched a mix of lust and appreciation fill his gaze, she knew that it was.

"Emma, you look....you look..."

"Nice I hope?"

"Yes, nice," he smiled, implying he'd had the intention of saying something much more charming. "Very nice."

"As do you," she nodded, leaning closer to whisper. "Interestingly enough so does your tie."

"Ah, _that_ ," he laughed softly, looking down. "You have heard of a website called YouTube, yes? Seems one can learn things _quite_ quickly there and I have always been a....visual learner."

He said that last part as he licked his bottom lip in a most obscene way. Oh yeah, the game was _clearly_ back on.

"Oh so me tying it for you earlier today wasn't a necessity? That is a devious trick, Mr. Jones."

"Hey," he defended, nudging her arm flirtatiously. "I never asked you to do that."

He was right. _Dammit_. She blushed a bit as she thought back to the heated moment. The night would surely be full of those, but this time, she would be in control.

###### 

They drove the short distance to a local restaurant where the gathering was being held. The establishment overlooked the harbor and as the sun set on the water, Emma remembered why she used to love being in Boston. She shook the idea from her mind and they exited the car, invoking a beep-beep locking sound as Killian clicked the keys. They began to stroll toward the entrance when he grabbed her hand, linking her fingers through his.

"Game on. Right, Swan?"

She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes at him, but she did squeeze his grip a little tighter. The rotating door enclosed them and on the other side, Emma was almost instantly flooded by faces, greetings, memories, and every other thing she'd left behind in Boston years ago. Killian, the coy devil he was, played her arm candy for a moment as they said hello to people Emma wasn't even sure she knew. The party had been mostly reserved for the people the couple knew in Boston - Ruby wouldn't even be there - and Emma was amazed at how out of place she felt. She pushed their way to where she hoped they might find the familiar faces, but before she could, she heard a voice she'd know anywhere.

"Emma!"

She looked up to see a tall, heartwarming man with dark blonde hair. His eyes were blue - lighter than Killian's but caring in a very similar way. A huge smile was plastered on his face as he moved toward them. Relief visibly took over Emma's body. She was forced to drop Killian's hand reluctantly as her cousin moved in for a much needed hug.

"David."

"I had hoped you would make it," he said warmly, enveloping her shoulders as she did the same to him. "It's been too long."

"Yes it has," she replied, letting go and looking up at him. "But you know I would never miss this. I love any experience that allows me to see you all dressed up against your will."

"Ha-ha, you _brat_ ," he taunted her with his eyes. "I don't suppose you are going to be kind enough to introduce me to your date?"

David's eyes had shifted to Killian, the sudden familiar father mode he'd had with Emma her entire life taking over. He seemed to be searching him for something out of place. Killian smiled confidently as David seemed to give up the visual interrogation, lifting his hand to shake the Irishman's.

"David Nolan," he announced kindly. "It's nice to meet you. I'm glad to see that Emma gave herself the liberty of dragging you along for this."

"Killian Jones. It's my pleasure so she'd didn't have to drag me too hard. I must say thank you for the invite. Beautiful party, mate."

"I can't say I've met many of Emma's boyfriends," David replied, an remark that caused Emma to roll her eyes. "I mean, if that's what you are?"

"Well," Killian laughed with a guilty shrug. "I suppose I am. I've always found it to be such an adolescent term, but for some reason, there's yet to be another one implemented - so boyfriend it is."

Emma grinned at him and he winked back at her sweetly. He took her hand again and this time, she fell right into the role.

"Mary Margaret will be so happy to see you both," David said, his eyes looking through the crowd. "She _may_ have moved your placecards discreetly closer to ours at the last minute. You know nothing about that though, right?"

"Of course she did," Emma chuckled. "There's a lot of people here, Dave. You guys are quite the socialites."

"Yeah, yeah," he retorted, waving his hand at her sarcastically. "Ah - there she is. Go ahead and I'll go get you guys something to drink."

Emma nodded and then looked to Killian. He was so at ease with everything. She wondered how he did it - she would have been hyperventilating with a need to be sedated by now if she were in his place.

"Well, Jones, are you ready to meet the most genuinely optimistic person you'll even encounter in this lifetime?"

"Oh, you mean she's your polar opposite? Yes, I'm _definitely_ ready."

She slapped his chest at the comment and he drew his free arm around her shoulders. She was quickly very close to chest once again and as much as she tried to play it cool, she was suddenly screaming internally at the contact. He, however, didn't move his arm or his eyes. He pulled her into a soft sort of half-hug and she nuzzled into him in such a natural way. Okay, she had to stop - _that_ wasn't going to help matters.

"Emma!"

Mary Margaret's excited voice came from across the room as she ventured toward them. She looked a million shades of happy by the time she reached them and Emma pried herself from Killian's embrace to hug the bride-to-be. Her thrilled eyes eventually moved from Emma to the man next to them and she smiled curiously. Emma decided that since she'd missed the cue with David, she better make up for it now.

"Hey, Mrs. Nolan - or soon to be. Mary Margaret, this is Killian."

"Oh, it's so great to meet you," she said sweetly, shaking his hand. "I am so happy you could both be here. It means the world to us. Here - come this way. Your seats are up here."

They took their seats and David arrived with their drinks, sliding them onto the beautifully clothed table. A champagne glass chimed for attention as Killian draped his arm over the back of Emma's chair. It was little gestures like that one that would surely get them through the evening in a convincing manner. Someone began to toast to something about David and Mary Margaret, but Emma found her mind on the man next to her. He was really _here_ \- and he was doing exactly what they had planned, but for some reason, there was a part of it that felt real. She wondered if he felt it too, but she quickly dismissed the inkling for the sole purpose of her heart's protection.

"So Killian," David began as the first course arrived. "Since Emma's been so withholding about you, I must warn you that you may be facing some pressing interrogation this evening - highly likely that it will be led by my fiance."

"David! I will do no such thing!"

Emma loved the playful exchange between the engaged couple. David deserved happiness.

"Well, I'm nothing if not a fair player," Killian tilted his head to the side as he grinned confidently. "Fire away."

The spent the next two hours moving from course to course and topic to topic. The engaged pair weren't being nosy but rather generally curious with the noblest intentions. David and Mary Margaret asked Killian about anything and everything - job, family, travel, hobbies - and he answered every question competently and kindly. Again, it was just like they planned.

"Killian, if you like fishing, you really should plan on coming with us next weekend," David offered. "We're heading up to the cabin with everyone - a big family getaway before the big day. We'd love to have you."

He looked to Emma for permission. She had been debating this part of the wedding festivities as she didn't even know if she was planning on attending or finding a way out of it - would he really even want to go?

"I'd love to," he replied, flattered and goodhearted. "That is assuming Emma is planning on bringing me along."

She grinned at him and then laughed at the way he'd shifted that decision and pressure of that one to her. She hadn't known he was going to start playing dirty.

"Oh, _absolutely,_ " Emma announced confidently, raising an eye at Killian. "We will be there for _sure._ "

Dessert was much more casual with Killian telling them about growing up in Ireland and David pulling out the embarrassing but not too over the top stories of his and Emma's childhood. The sound of genuine laughter echoed from their spots at the table and Emma found herself having a strangely great time. Mary Margaret had directed a bit of time to telling them about the remainder of wedding festivities - the retreat next weekend, the bridal and bachelor parties the next, and the big day which would be on the third Saturday of the month long celebration. She wasn't really sure how the next three weekends with Killian Jones should make her feel, but she couldn't help being a bit intrigued by the whole idea. Sometime during the meal - okay, not that she'd _specifically_ noticed, but it was right as they were clearing the main course - Killian's arm over the chair had turned into a hand on Emma's thigh. She bit her tongue as she tried to compose herself under his boyfriend-like touch and eventually after a very deep breath, she settled back into the events around her. Killian didn't bother moving his hand until they stood to leave.

"It was so wonderful seeing you," Mary Margaret chimed as she hugged Emma. "But don't think you won't be answering for this one later? You clearly have a _lot_ of explaining to do." 

Mary Margaret was tilting her head toward Killian who seemed to be wrapped up in a conversation with David about who in the hell knows what. The two men had really hit it off and Emma smiled at that fact. As she was watching the interaction, Killian glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. Her breath hitched a bit, but she stared right back at him. She made a mental note to ask him what David had been going on about - curious as to whether he'd actually heard anything her cousin had said.

After goodbyes had been said, they found themselves in Killian's car. He started the ignition and began to back out with a laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing, Swan," he replied, smiling like a mad man. "You just have a great family."

He was right - she definitely did. Emma felt her heart swell at the idea that perhaps he'd actually enjoyed himself. She leaned into the back of the seat with relief - _one down_ , she thought.

###### 

Emma had been so congratulatory to herself in the evening's success that she had totally forgotten the biggest dilemma they'd encountered in Massachusetts thus far. The bed loomed as they both stood at the foot, waiting for the other to speak.

"Killian, I, uh-"

"It's okay. Go ahead and, uh, you can get ready for bed. I'll just be....just going to call Robin and check on the boat."

He gestured that he'd be standing out on the deck for that phone call. Emma couldn't help but notice that he hadn't resigned with a chivalrous offer to take the couch or something. He was putting the ball back in _her_ court - quietly asking her to make the choice. As she brushed her teeth and loosely curled hair, she tried to find herself at odds with this situation. She put on her softest cotton lounge pants and a t-shirt, leaving the dress on a hanger in the room's closet with the heels stored just under it. As she climbed under the bed's comforter and sunk into the quite accommodating mattress, she heard Killian wrapping up his idle chat with Robin. She rolled to face the door as the glass slid open and he entered the room again. He smiled at her, stopping in his tracks for a moment. She had hoped her eyes weren't giving her away. She had left the open space on purpose. She didn't have a problem with him laying next to her.

He crossed the room and as he walked past the bed, she felt her stomach sink. She listened to water turn on and off and clothing rustle around as he went about his nightly routine. After a few moments, he walked - now in blue basketball shorts and shirtless - back to where his bag sat on the floor. He turned his vision back to her and she surprised herself when she realized she hadn't looked away, even when he'd left the room momentarily. His eyes looked curious and almost a bit....sad. It perplexed her. She felt the empty space on the bed that she looked across begin to grow larger and perhaps even more empty. Killian dug a plain white t-shirt out of his suitcase and wrestled over his head as he stood up. His eyes asked permission and somehow hers gave it. 

He wandered to the side of the bed that lay blank, his eyes barely leaving hers. With a smile, he tapped two fingers on the cold sheets. He was still asking - he needed to know if this was okay. He was _still_ giving _her_ an out. With closed lips, she smirked back as she tapped the sheets with two matching fingers. He laughed softly and Emma realized how much had just been said without any words breaking through the air. He sat first, leaning back against the headboard as he stretched his legs out onto the mattress. Emma shifted a bit, unsure about how to react with him in such an intimate vicinity. She was definitely clueless, but for some reason, it didn't scare her. _He_ didn't scare her.

"Well, we survived, Swan," he said softly, now laying to turn on his side to look at her. "Think we put on an appropriate act?"

"Yeah," she replied, deflating as she remembered the inaccuracy of their situation. "It appeared so. Although I know that David is not as great of an actor so believe me, he likes you."

"Oh really? Why would you think that?"

"He's pretty....protective," Emma explained, leaning her pillow up a bit against the bed. "He doesn't give approval to many - well, _any_ of the guys I date....or have dated."

"He's a good guy," Killian reassured her, propping his head up by putting an arm underneath it. "If it isn't too bold to say, he is protective for good reason."

He said it so sincerely that Emma could only purse her lips and stare at him. How had she never seen _this_ before - this man? This layer that had been revealed over the last sixteen or so hours had Emma fascinated in so many ways. The silence wasn't intolerable for once, but she had a hard time passing up on this opportune time - a time when she could maybe gain some clarification.

"Killian?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you tell me about the tie?"

She realized how stupid the question sounded the moment it left her lips. She had given him such a window to do any numbers of things - laugh, deflect, perhaps even tease her about her curiosity. Killian Jones wasn't one for the emotional high road. Yet with all the possibilities, he chose to surprise her instead.

"Ah, that. Yes, you'd think it would be a skill that a man would have gleaned by the time he was about to turn thirty."

She noticed the tone of his voice, slightly embarrassed but more unbelieving that they even had to talk about this.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's honestly not that big of a deal. I was just....wondering I guess."

"Well," he began, biting his lower lip in thought. "Ties and I don't have the fondest history. It's a rather long tale."

"I don't mind."

"Okay then," he said after a moment as he rolled onto his back. "So, Swan, when I was about seven - back in Ireland - my mother got terribly ill. She passed after some time and my brother and I spent the entire day in dress clothes at the wake. My father had tied our ties for us - and I will swear to this day that they were much tighter than necessary. I guess I hated the way it made me feel. It was so formal and I felt like I was trying to pretend to be someone I wasn't....someone who was okay."

Emma felt herself listening to him speak more intently that she ever had. This version of Killian - the vulnerable one - was such a rare sight.

"My dad didn't stick around for long after that. Liam and I were shipped to a neighboring city to live with my aunt. She sent us to prep school - that didn't last long for me."

"Why's that?"

"Wasn't too keen on the uniform," he said, smiling somewhat sadly. "Not only was I unable to tie a tie, I didn't prefer them much either. I jumped ship to the states the second I turned seventeen and found work at a lumberyard."

"No ties involved there, right?"

"Right," he said, laughing at the way she tried to lighten the mood. "I had been working there for about four years when Liam called and invited me back - told me about the boats and wanted me to be his business partner. No suit needed there either. Maybe that's why I liked it so much."

Emma knew that there was something about this mystery brother - he was a huge source of the brokenness she'd seen in Killian. She waited out the pause and without thinking, slid her hand around his arm.

"Liam and I had a big deal we were making a few years in. It was some big yacht company that wanted us to build a very specific boat for their CEO and in turn, they'd advertise our brand. It would be a huge venture for us....like a turning point, if you will. We dressed the part, naturally - slacks, pressed dress shirts, shiny shoes. I certainly wasn't about to tell my brother that in the years we'd been apart, I still hadn't learned to tie my own damn tie. I'd been fumbling with the tie for a few minutes with Liam nagging me about being late when I finally just tossed it aside and gave up on wearing one altogether."

"I never pegged you to be a quitter, Jones."

"I _try_ not to be, Swan," he teased, poking gently at her ribs. "So, anyway, it was rainy as it sometimes is where I'm from and I was driving us into the city to meet with these sharks. The road was wet and I was listening to Liam fuss about whether or not he'd picked the right tie. I wasn't paying attention as much as I should have been. The car, it just...."

His voice hitched a bit and it prompted her to turn her hold on his arm into a reassuring stroke. She knew where this story was headed and as much as she hoped she was wrong, she knew better than to hope for such things.

"We were miles from help and it was pouring. He....Liam - I wanted to help him, but by the time they got there, it was just....over."

Emma tried not envision the whole situation. She could almost see it - the two men dressed all dapper, high on life as they were on their way to make their careers. She could see Killian's white dress shirt stained with the loss of his brother and his eyes dark with disaster.

"Needless to say," he said, regaining composure and rolling back over to face her. "I'm not big on dress clothes and I'm even less crazy about ties."

"Makes sense," Emma replied, nodding in understanding with a patronizing smile. 

"But, you, Swan," he began, inching a bit closer. "You've talked me into wearing both. Not an easy feat."

"Well you know how I love a challenge, Jones. But even after I asked you to do this, you didn't think you should _probably_ learn how before coming here?"

"Look, in all my wisdom, YouTube hadn't really crossed my mind," he explained with a cocked eyebrow. "Plus, it's also a little ridiculous to admit to anyone that you've made it this far in life and have yet to learn such a skill so I couldn't really ask anyone. This is why, Swan, you will speak of _this_ to no one."

"But, Killian," she whined with an insanely fake pout. "You _know_ how much I love blackmail."

"That I do," he grinned. "Just not sure how I keep getting pushed into supplying it for you."

He was close - perhaps too close. He looked at her trustingly and she realized that he'd shared a story with her that he clearly didn't tell just anyone over coffee. She was supposed to be grateful for _him_ and what _he_ was doing in all of this - not the other way around.

His whole attitude at school seemed to piece itself together more easily now. The fancy suit, the charm....it was his way of coping. She knew all about that area of grief and though his method had been so annoying and exasperating for so long, she found herself now empathizing in a way she wished she didn't know how.

"So," he said, taking her hand between both of his and rolling it back and forth slowly. "Big day tomorrow?"

"Well it _is_ Mary Margaret," Emma said with a half smile. "I'm sure she has something planned."

"I'm quite interested to see what pans out," he laughed, massaging her hand with his deft fingertips. "We should get some rest."

"Yeah, we should."

She was about to roll over, thinking he'd meant he wanted some space. The sudden grip of her hand forced her to stop and look up at him. He looked at her with a deep form of gratitude and then with a little smile, he slid backward a bit. He was making room for her. He wanted her to come _closer_. The worst part - the interesting part - was that she actually wanted to. Involving very little thinking of consequences, Emma moved forward as he rolled to resume his earlier position on his back. She rested her head on his chest as he wrapped his warm, thankful arms around her. It was the exact thing she shouldn't be doing, but she immediately found it was exactly what she would need to fall asleep. 

She couldn't even begin to think of what chaos they would get themselves into the next day - so she didn't even try as sleep and the smell of Killian Jones filled her senses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew inspiration for Emma's dress from one made by Shabby Apple that I saw on a fashion blog a while back -- you can google it if you'd like to see it! Just search 'shabby apple ingrid dress'.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay :) this is a fun chapter for sure! I hope to get another one out soon - I've got some ideas rolling around so we'll see what happens. Thank you so much for reading and for spreading the word about this fic. You are all so unbelievably awesome! As always, all characters/rights belong to OUAT.

Emma woke up to a empty room and silence save for the outside sounds of the city. As absent as Killian was, her surroundings were brightened by a peculiar morning light that seemed to illuminate not only the day but also her thoughts of him. The previous night began to come together in her mind and she wondered what the whole thing had meant. He'd been so honest - so....real. It was quite the unexpected conversation as Emma didn't _do_ feelings and for the most part, she had figured Killian didn't either. Their time in Boston so far was strangely intimate and though she was amazed at how bearable he had made the engagement party, developing emotions for him _wasn't_ part of the plan. She sighed heavily and checked her phone. Nothing.

She didn't know where Killian was, but perhaps that was a good thing for now. She settled back against the headboard, beginning to contemplate getting in the shower when she heard the ding of an incoming text message.

_David: Lunch today at the pier. Killian said you guys would be free around 1pm. I'll call you in a while to confirm._

Whoa. Killian should by no means have _any_ way to tell David _anything_. Good _god_. Did this mean in terrible twist of this scheme that Killian had ended up spending the day's early hours hanging out with her cousin? Wait, or worse - that the two had exchanged phone numbers? She huffed at the new information, tossing her phone on the bed. God _dammit_. This plan was sure as hell not panning out correctly in any way, shape, or form. Hell - at this point, she didn't know why she even called it a "plan" at all.

Emma was ripped from this new speculation of impending disaster by the harsh unlocking of the hotel room door. She drew the covers back over herself in anticipation. _There_ he was - all swishy basketball shorts, two cups of morning coffee, and a light sweat soaked body. He smiled his usual flirtatious grin as he kicked off his obviously quite new running shoes and Emma could see the familiar way his mind was reeling - perhaps conjuring up a revenge strategy after the revealing night before. Yep, Killian Jones was _clearly_ not fond of his own vulnerability.

"Oh, good _morning_ , Swan! It's refreshing to see you decided _not_ to sleep the day away," he scolded playfully. "The adults around here have already gone for a run, harassed the employees at the local Starbucks about your in _depth_ coffee order, and scoped out a lovely lunch location."

 _Oh please_ , she thought as she listened to the insufferable man describe himself as an adult. She glared at him. Early risers were the _worst_.

"A location where you have apparently invited the betrothed to join us as well," she retorted, loving her own extensive vocabulary skills. "I didn't know you and David had formed some sort of awful social committee."

"Well if I waited for _you_ to awaken from the dead, I'd end up starving to death. I'd dare say that might throw a wrench in the plans with the date you desperately procured for this big event."

"Oh, _please_. Not desperate at all, Jones," she replied, reaching for the coffee that he immediately pulled just out of her reach in a teasing manner. "Killian, give me that damn cup or I'll-"

"Or you'll _what?_ "

He had moved dangerously close to her during his little game of caffeine denial, his face mere inches from hers. His cheeks were flushed, his dark hair was slightly damp, and he smelled like the early morning fresh air - even though he'd clearly put a few miles under his feet already that day. He wore a challenging, smoldering smirk - one she had rarely seen. He was tempting her. She wouldn't be so easily swayed this time.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Her raised eyebrow defied his sultry question and he seemed genuinely surprised that she wasn't shaken by his invasion of space - at least not visibly.

"Perhaps I would, Swan."

He handed over the cup of coffee with a grin and Emma snatched it away, rolling her eyes at his forward comment. This was the Killian she knew - the one she once despised and reveled in tormenting. She hoped his change in attitude might make the rest of the time in Boston a bit easier to handle. She knew how to deal with him like _this_ , but the guy from last night was a whole other story.

"Up, up," he demanded sweetly. "Time is ticking, love. I'm going to check in with Roland - Robin said he wanted to tell me about sailing I guess so you're free to shower first."

"That kid really likes you, doesn't he?"

Killian winked confidently as he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and headed to the balcony, coffee in hand and usual swagger in his step. Emma beamed internally at the way he seemed to enjoy making her morning....difficult. She waited a moment as she listened to see if Robin picked up or not. She didn't want to vacate the bed and risk him staring after her if his phone call failed. It didn't take long for the muffled conversation to fill the room as it filtered in through the glass door. Emma grinned at the way Killian's accent seemed to thicken when he talked to his friend. _Must be an Irish thing,_ she thought to herself. Setting the cup on a nearby surface, she noticed the tell tale scrawl of Killian's writing in Sharpie.

_"He who is too well off is always longing for something new." -Jacob Grimm_

Emma smiled sweetly first, but then shook her head with a laugh. Overconfident, literary _bastard._

###### 

They each got showered and dressed with a remarkably small amount of awkwardness. The specified time for lunch was nearing - yes, David had called to double check and yes, Emma had acted so _grateful_ that Killian took it upon himself to set up the meeting - but Emma had still yet to figure out how the two men had become such fast friends. 

"David wants to know if there's anyone else we are interested in bringing up to the cabin next weekend," Killian commented, reading a text on his phone. "Any thoughts?"

Well, _that_ answered her question about the recent communication between her date and David. Killian didn't look up from the screen until Emma laughed softly.

"Well I can tell you that it's probably not David who is asking _that_ question," Emma explained. "It's more likely to be Regina. She's a friend of ours from college and I'm guessing when she heard the news of our assumed relationship, she wondered if you have any friends."

"Ah, I see," Killian said, typing something into his phone. "Makes much more sense now."

Emma's mind wandered briefly to Robin, but she quickly shook that thought. Those two were unspeakably hard to handle at school - the insanity they would create at a wedding was not something Emma wanted even begin to fathom.

"Okay, love," Killian said, breaking her out of her thoughts as he jingled his keys. "Ready?"

###### 

Lunch at the harbor turned out to be an adventure to the same little bistro where David had spent summers working in high school. Emma had spent countless hours doing homework and watching boats on the water there all those years ago. She didn't particularly enjoy the nostalgic element of the whole thing, but they _did_ have some of the best food in that particular area of Boston. Plus, Killian seemed oddly excited to learn more about her beginnings so she decided to roll with it.

"So I was pretty frustrated about having to be at this conference at all," Killian said through ironic laughter as he described how he'd _supposedly_ met Emma. "But I must say that finding Emma sitting on the back row at the first workshop was quite an act of divinity."

His arm was slung across the back of her chair as he created the backward, embellished tale and she narrowed her eyes at him playfully. He looked so genuine as he demonstrated his elaborate and animated method of storytelling to an enthralled Mary Margaret with David looking on, chuckling at all the right parts. Emma's heart fluttered when he winked at her, but she wouldn't admit that she knew why.

"So, I guess the rest they say is history," Killian sighed, smiling at Emma. "Right, love?"

"Yeah, I've heard the expression."

Emma was amazed with herself - well with them really. Putting on this show of actual dating was beyond easy for them and as she looked at her cousin and his bride to be, she saw just how believable the whole thing really was. She'd never seen David so proud and happy, his brotherly instinct swelling as he realized how happy the couple must be. Mary Margaret, an honest believer in true love, was completely mesmerized by the whole situation. It pulled at Emma's heartstrings and for a moment, she wondered how things would be different if it was actually real.

"Well, I for one am so excited that you guys were able to make it up here for a few days," Mary Margaret announced as the foursome stood to head their separate ways. "We will definitely see you next weekend then, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Emma said, looking to Killian and his reassuring grin. "It should be fun."

Emma hugged David and his fiance before they left. Killian and her cousin shared some ridiculous form of a fist bump that was _so_ childish and _so_ embarrassing but so expected. She tried to forget the fact that when this was all over, the two men might not be friends at all.

"So now what, Swan?"

Dammit. She hadn't thought this far.

"Well, I don't know," Emma admitted with a shrug. "It's a nice day though. We could-"

"Take a walk?"

He seemed to be doing that more frequently now - that blatant, I-know-what-you're-going-to-say-so-I'll-save-you-the-trouble interrupting thing. She tried to feign annoyance at his rude, somewhat endearing action.

"We could do that, I guess," she said with a nod. "Where to?"

"You tell me," he said, an asking manner to his voice. "Your town, your rules. You can show me Boston through the eyes of Emma Swan."

She grinned at the idea and started back up the hill to where they'd parked as Killian followed closely behind. The idea of playing tour guide certainly didn't appeal to her often, but in this case, she found herself quite interested in the concept. As they walked, his presence grew closer to hers and after a moment, he stretched a hand out to grab hers. She hadn't been expecting it at all and she looked at him with wildly confused eyes.

"You know," he said sweetly, looking from side to side. " _Just_ in case we happen upon anyone you know."

###### 

The afternoon found them in the bay village neighborhood - a place that used to house many of Emma's favorite restaurants and little shops. It hadn't changed much and she found a comforting sense of home as they found a parking spot. She became a different person as they walked the street, narrating everything from what was sold at the farmer's market to which cafe had the best menu. She showed him the ice cream shop where David met his first girlfriend and the garden where she used to pick flowers when she was younger - even though the sign specified not to. She let him buy her coffee at a corner bistro, but only because she claimed they had the best lattes and Killian was sure she had to be wrong. The look on his face after taking a sip told her that she wasn't. She didn't miss the way Killian's eyes lit up like fireworks as she spoke and the way he mused at her animated directions and tales. As the rounded the corner to another cobblestone street, he took her hand again. As she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, she found him glancing back without so much as an explanation. She decided maybe it wasn't worth saying anything and she linked her fingers through his.

"So what's this place, Swan?"

They had stopped outside of an old shop with a yellow sign and a large window. She pointed to the glass, hoping to clarify.

"It's a bookstore. It's _the_ bookstore - the place where I learned to love reading."

"Well," he said, grasping the door's handle with one hand and her fingers with the other. "What are we waiting for?"

He pulled her inside and they found themselves wandering the aisles, skimming through leather covers and vintage text. Emma examined the works of unknown authors and Killian watched her, the literature teacher in her truest element. She stopped after a moment, suddenly aware of things his eyes were doing.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said softly, tilting his head to the side. "Just interested in what makes or breaks a book for Emma Swan."

"Many things actually," she said, entertaining his question and continuing her stroll. "Plot, likable or vengeful characters, believable imagery....and I always like to read the ending first."

" _What?!_ You can't do that!"

She giggled at his outburst - he seemed truly offended like she'd broken some sort of imaginary reading rule.

"Why not?"

"Because, Swan," he said, shaking his head with a grin. "If they wanted you to read the ending _first_ , they'd put it at the beginning. That's like ordering dessert before you eat dinner, love."

"Wait, you've never done that?"

He eyed her suspiciously and it forced a genuine, rare laugh from her lips. 

"Come on, Jones," she said, books in hand as she waved him toward the register. "Let's pay and then I'm taking you to the place that taught me the real order of how a menu should work."

"Ah, ah," he said, cutting her off and adding her two books to his stack of two. "Let me - after all, I owe you after the personal city tour I've been a part of all day."

He didn't give her any time to argue, but as he turned to head toward the check out, she noticed the copy of _Walden_ right on top of their collection for purchase.

As night fell, they wandered into the little restaurant where Emma coerced him into ordering the best cheesecake in Massachusetts before even considering the entrees. His unbelieving smirk made her wonder if he was changing his mind about things other than just menu choices. She watched him mull over his food as she did the same with the day. _This isn't real_ , she repeated in her head. So why did it feel like maybe it was?

###### 

"So why not Frost?"

They'd landed back at the hotel room after a stop at a local wine shop where Emma had picked out a blush with no argument from him. They were in chairs facing one another on the balcony and Emma had her feet tucked under her with her sweater pulled tight to fight the subtle misty nip in the air.

"Ick," she said, feigning disgust. "He just wrote so much about nature. _So_ boring."

The pair had been tossing around the names of authors and writers alike for an hour or so now. Killian was definitely curious about her preferences and she wondered if the canvas of her coffee cups had something to do with it.

"Hemingway?"

"Very classic," she nodded. "He seem so tortured. I always wondered what drove him to be like he was. Clearly a past there, right?"

"I'd imagine so," Killian replied, pursing his lips as if keeping in a secret. "Jane Austen?"

"I can appreciate it, but I don't know if I'd venture as far as to call myself a fan," Emma explained, running her finger along the rim of her tumbler of wine. "She's such a idealist. She was so into doing everything with your whole heart - with _every_ ounce of your being. Real life and love don't always work that way."

"But maybe sometimes they do."

Emma met his gaze at this comment. He looked intrigued and somewhat hopeful. She examined the way the blue in his eyes had shifted to a deeper hue. It became oddly clear why he'd been doing so much asking. It was like he thought maybe if he understood her, he could help heal....something. She almost felt bad for him. It was a task that nobody had yet to succeed at and she didn't believe he'd ever fare any different - it didn't really matter. It's not like he'd ever take the chance.

"Maybe _sometimes_ , but not always," she replied, a teasing smile covering her lips. "Next."

###### 

They bantered until the bottom of the bottle and later, when they both lay in the dark of the room, Emma wasn't sure how to perceive the playback of their day. Neither had been too tired yet so they started a game of "what's your favorite" and it became so comfortable that eventually they both rolled on their sides, facing one another. Killian looked drowsy, but she could tell he was enjoying the open opportunity of getting to know someone who was typically so guarded.

"Okay, favorite....movie?"

"Easy one," she said softly, a smirk gracing her quiet lips. "The Princess Bride."

"Good film," he replied thoughtfully. "I think I might have known that one already though."

"What? How?"

"I remember you let your students watch it last year so they could write an essay on 'the merits of fairytales in modern film'."

"Wow, Jones - do you take notes on all of my lessons?"

"Irrelevant, Swan. But regardless, your answer to favorite movie was not new information."

"Well then I think it's only fair that you get a second question."

He raised an eyebrow at her. He was obviously just as surprised at how open she was acting as she was. He ran his tongue quickly across his bottom lip and opened his eyes a bit wider as he shifted the slightest bit closer.

"Okay," he said, mimicking the tone she'd had the night before when she had inquired about the tie. "Will you tell me about the kiss?"

Huh? What kiss? She didn't have the slightest clue what he - _oh_. The kiss. _That_ kiss. She tried to swallow her shaky breath subtly so as to maintain some sort of composure.

"What about it?"

"What are you willing to say about it?"

"You are the one who kissed _me,_ Jones-"

"But _you_ kissed me back."

He was right. She had and she knew there was little use in denying it.

"I guess I'm just curious," he said after a moment, stuttering a bit. "I know it was-I just....well, I just didn't want you to feel like it didn't mean something. It was...."

Where the _hell_ was he headed with this? Emma didn't know if she was ready to find out. Not tonight.

"It was a nice kiss," she cut him off, smiling softly. "No harm, no foul."

"Good," he whispered after a pause, clearly a bit deflated. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Yeah - me too. We should probably get some sleep."

"As you wish," he yawned, winking at her. "Goodnight, Swan."

Emma shook her head at his stolen quote from her favorite film. He was easily the most ridiculous, unwieldy choice she could have made when finding someone to accompany her on this trip. Yet as sleep began to overtake her, his firm frame nestled against her back and his warm arm reached around her torso to find her hand. For once, couldn't be compelled to stop it and she fell easily into a safe, cuddly slumber.

###### 

The next day's drive went all too fast and when they pulled into Killian's driveway, Emma found herself a bit disappointed at the idea of going home. Soon enough, she found herself standing in front of her driver's side door waiting for....something. Killian had just closed the hatch of her car after setting her suitcase in the back and his feet were leading him to stand in front of her.

"Well, Swan...."

"Well, Jones."

"Success, right?"

She nodded humbly as she watched him feign a victorious expression. He wasn't sure what to say and she didn't think it was fair to put him in a position where he was at a loss for words. That was pretty unfamiliar ground for Killian Jones. 

"We did well," she commented, opening the door. "So I'll see you at school?"

"Yeah," he said shakily, his hand on the side of the open door. "Of course."

She _wanted_ to wait. She thought about waiting. No. That was stupid. She wasn't going to wait. She quickly slipped into the driver's seat, coaxing the ignition until the car started. He smiled with a very faint sadness as she reached out to close the door. She backed out quickly, not looking back at him for fear of what she might or might _not_ see. She just needed to get home.

She had barely made it to the first stoplight when her phone chimed. It was red so she figured a quick glance at the screen couldn't hurt.

_Killian: Hey - just noticed you forgot a few things. Looks like your phone charger and something else._

She sighed. _Dammit_. She really needed to get better at packing.

_Emma: Ugh, sorry. I'll be there in a minute._

She flipped around, veering the car back towards his house as she scolded herself for making this whole process even more difficult. He was sitting on the trunk of his car when she rolled in and he smiled nervously at her. What was _that_ all about?

"Hey, sorry," she said as she exited the car and opened the back to find her suitcase. "One day I'll get the hang of keeping my things in one spot while traveling."

"Not a big deal," he reassured her, moving to where she was standing as she tugged on the zipper of her luggage. "I wasn't oblivious to your packing skills or lack thereof."

She chanced a look at his teasing expression as she snatched the charger out of his hands and stuffed it into the bag. He stood firmly in place, softly biting his lower lip.

"So you said a few things that I forgot - what else?"

She had barely zipped up the bag and turned back to face him when she noticed his labored breath and stiff posture - as if he was fighting some sort of internal battle. The light of his eyes flickered and he ran his tongue decisively across his lower lip. She was about to raise an eyebrow at him when suddenly he descended forward with abandon and fused his lips to hers. He held both sides of her face as he sighed into the kiss and Emma found herself completely and totally caught off guard. Her lips barely began to move when he slid his hand to the back of her hair, cradling her head. She reached forward to grip his bicep, bracing herself for the impending instability of her legs. She had only been kissing him back for a fraction of a moment when he pulled back, totally breathless. His blue eyes bore into hers as he continued to hold her face. She knew she was going to collapse at any second. They stood in complete silence, staring at each other with purpose for what felt like hours. When he shifted back slightly, Emma forced her voice to reappear.

"So," she began precariously. "Did, uh - did I get everything now?"

"Uh, yeah," he smiled subtly as he closed the hatch for her. "You did. For now."

She wasn't sure how she got home - the way she left and her drive back to her house had been on total autopilot - but as she lay in bed that night, Emma realized just how big and empty even a queen sized bed could be.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your wonderful responses to this story - it's been beyond fun to write it thus far! Back to school for me tomorrow :( but I will do my best to keep my updates frequent. Enjoy! Per usual, all characters and rights belong to OUAT.
> 
> *Also, where I teach, they made us change the name of the parent committee from PTA to PTO....so that's what I'm referring to in this story :) strange acronyms!

Emma didn't have much of a plan for the next week, but she figured it might be a good idea to avoid Killian until she figured out how to navigate these new, treacherous waters. God, he kissed her. _Again_. She didn't know why - okay, _maybe_ she had a few thoughts - but he seemed to have a purpose when he did it. He didn't have feelings for her - no, that definitely wasn't it. Emma's mind spun her wildly through all of Monday without running into him and by that night, she was exhausted and still unsure of what she was supposed to believe about this real friendship and fake something or other relationship she had fallen into with Killian Jones.

The next morning, Emma maneuvered her way into school later than usual - hoping that the short time before the bell might help her avoid any awkward conversations or encounters with him. As she flipped on the light, she moved to close the door behind her, but then she noticed that steaming cup on her desk. How had he gotten into her classroom? _Ah yes_ , she thought shaking her head. Killian had a flirtatious relationship with the secretary in the main office that he used often for his benefit and Emma assumed that a few compliments had helped him obtain the master key that morning. She eyed the cup as she set her bag down, wondering what scholarly wisdom her latte had for her today.

_I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. -HDT_

Oh, so he _obviously_ knew she'd been ignoring him. She shrugged with a deflated sigh and grabbed the cup off the surface of her desk. A small note had been propped up against the back of the styrofoam and it fell forward. She flipped it open as she took a sip of the coffee, which told her he must have been there recently as it was still quite hot.

_Swan-  
Stealthy as you are, you can't hide from your commitment to volunteer. See you tonight. -KJ_

What in the hell was he talking about? A commitment to volunteer? Emma made it a habit to avoid signing up for things far in advance as she found her schedule difficult to navigate already without adding some do-good activity to it. Killian was obviously mixed up about something because she had made no such- _oh dammit_. Sinking in her chair, she looked to the school calendar of events that was stuck haphazardly to her bulletin board. Tuesday and Wednesday night. 6:30 PM. Seventh grade boys' basketball tournament. Her stomach sunk like a stone when she remembered agreeing to help with this when Killian had guilt tripped her for making him wear actual dress shoes to the engagement party. She'd been trying so hard to get him to just _shut up_ that she had goaded herself right into it. She clicked on her computer and opened up the messenger program to find his icon green, confirming that he was online.

 **Swan, Emma:** You don't have parents or someone that can help? Taking tickets is really not that hard.

 **Jones, Killian:** Well first of all, good morning to you too. Second, as much as I'd love to spend the evening being gawked at by the PTO mothers, I think I'd find your company more pleasant.

 **Swan, Emma:** Just tonight, right?

 **Jones, Killian:** Yes, Swan. One night.

 **Swan, Emma:** Fine. You win.

 **Jones, Killian:** Oh, how I love winning.

She scowled at the screen as she swiveled her chair back around. It was one night - a few hours really. She'd have to face him sooner rather than later and it was probably best to break the ice before making the trip back to Boston. Plus, this way, they'd be surrounded by other people and he wouldn't have much of a chance to antagonize her while he was putting on his show of professionalism. He'd also be coaching a bunch of preteen boys so his time would be occupied. She could handle it. It was _one_ night.

###### 

It became quite apparent early on that Emma was most definitely _not_ going to be able to handle it. She'd entered the gym at roughly 6:05, not wanting to be too early because - _well,_ you know. Her eyes continually darted around for a glimpse at the smoldering shop teacher. He wasn't around fortunately so she set up shop at the table by the door. Her colleague Anna, who'd apparently returned from her family emergency, had also been recruited to help and she pulled a chair up for Emma as she began chatting her ear off about her recent trip home and every little detail in between.

"So you signed up to help tonight?"

"Kind of," Emma explained, trying to sound altruistic. "Killian asked me."

"Killian Jones? The shop teacher?"

Emma nodded, raising an eyebrow as Killian was the only Killian at their school - or that she knew for that matter.

"Oh, I'm just surprised," Anna said, shaking off her question. "I thought he usually gets a parent to do this."

"Yeah," Emma said, scanning the room. "I thought he did too."

She began tearing off the ticket stubs of people entering the building. Emma found it odd that parents and other patrons were actually paying to watch a bunch of junior high boys chase a ball up and down the court. Principal Hopper was a generous man, but charging people three dollars to get into the games was an easy way to boost the school's bank account. She figured if it might eventually earn her a new printer, she wouldn't argue with the idea.

"Emma!"

Emma's head quickly snapped up as the small, excited voice she was anticipating was not Killian's. She caught the action of a little, curly haired boy bounding toward her. His grin was ridiculously wide as he recognized her and she was thrown completely for a loop when he swung his little arms around her for an unexpected hug. She laughed and returned half an embrace.

"Oh, ha - hey there, Roland," she addressed, barely containing her adoration at the little boy's gesture. "I really didn't think you'd remember me."

"Of course I do," he said with a cheerful nod. "You're Killian's friend."

Robin wandered over, clearly amused at his son's interaction with a woman he teased regularly. She shrugged at him halfheartedly and rolled her eyes as he laughed at her reaction to Roland's excitement to see her.

"Swan," he said kindly. "Good to see you. Roland was wondering if you'd be here. Seems he confirmed that you are before I was able to."

"Yeah, it seems so," Emma said, eyeing the boy at her side. "It's good to see you too, Robin. I didn't know he and I had become friends in the short time we'd known each other...."

"It _is_ surprising as in my personal experience it typically takes much, _much_ longer."

Emma stilled as she recognized the voice that had abruptly sounded from just behind the little boy. _Well, here we are,_ she thought. Time to get this uncomfortable moment out of the way.

As she turned to face Killian, she was met by pursed lips and a half smile. His eyes were mischievous and playful with a bright blue undertone. His hair was the usual messy perfection and his eyebrow arched in the familiar pattern. He wore a white t-shirt with the school logo on it and black warm up type pants that probably made a slight swish-swish sound when he walked. She had to shake her head at the bright, blue Nike basketball shoes on his feet as she realized though they were flashy, they matched his eyes almost too perfectly.

"Saying I'm hard to get along with, Jones?"

"Not at all," he grinned, nudging Roland's little shoulder. "Just particular about _who_ you like to get along with."

Her mouth opened to reply, but nothing came out. Unable to form an equally taunting response, she narrowed her eyes at him and he returned the flirty response.

"I need a favor, Swan."

"Now what?"

"Well," he began, picking up a ticklish Roland. "This taking tickets gig will be over soon and though you'd normally be free to go at that point, the other coach isn't going to make it. He's got that nasty cold going around."

"Killian, I will _not_ help you wrangle twelve junior high boys while instructing them on how to follow athletic rules."

"No, no, Swan," he laughed, mimicking Roland's current action. "I was going to commandeer this young lad's father to assist me and I'm hoping that if I do so, you'd be willing to monitor my friend here."

Roland tried to keep a straight face, faithful that it might help Emma agree. Killian gave her the most pathetically adorable yet still persuasive puppy dog eyes and she raised her eyebrows helplessly. She wasn't getting out of this one.

"Okay," she agreed, smiling at Roland. "I think I could probably help you out."

Roland's dimpled smile returned ten fold and he wiggled to try to get free of the strong arms around him. Killian made it known pretty quickly that he wasn't allowing that just yet as he tossed Roland's tiny frame playfully over his shoulder and turned to walk toward the bleachers. 

"Thank you, Emma," he said turning his head back to her with a wink and using her first name quite genuinely. "I'll find you both a seat with a view and you can join us when you finish up here."

She smirked in response as she watched him saunter away. She snapped out of it as Anna prodded her with an elbow.

"You can go, Emma," she confirmed sweetly. "I got this."

"Oh, well....okay," Emma began thankfully. "If you're sure?"

Anna nodded with understanding eyes and a strangely knowing smile. Emma quickly gathered her things and scoped out Roland. He was sitting on the bench about six rows up from the players and the two oddly knowledgeable coaches while patiently eating what looked like a bag of animal crackers. He really was a good kid. This shouldn't be too bad.

"Is this seat taken?"

"No," Roland said with confused eyes. "Killian said to save it for you. Are you going to stay here with me?"

"Absolutely," she said reassuringly. "I would hate to watch the game alone and you seem like pretty good company."

He smiled bashfully and turned his eyes to the sporting event beginning at half court. Killian and Robin stood near the end of the bench and as the boys gathered on the floor, they both looked to where Roland and now Emma were sitting. Robin looked pleased and possibly relieved that she'd agreed to help, but Killian gave her the same affectionate gaze that had often made her heart skip a beat.

A few whistles in, Emma found herself not only entertained by the awkward athletic ability of the players, but also by the thickly accented exchanges between Killian and Robin. They spoke so fast and with idioms that Emma had never even heard. Yep. _Definitely_ an Irish thing.

"Emma, you know what?"

Roland's voice tore her attention away from the cultural humor currently pacing the court. He looked introspective - well, as much as a kid that young could look anyway.

"What?"

"I knew you weren't Killian's girlfriend when I asked you at the house."

"Oh really? How did you know that?"

"Well, because," he said matter-of-factly. "Killian doesn't have girlfriends anymore."

Emma was puzzled by the last word in his sentence. Roland seemed to have a bit of insight into this man and she found herself wondering about the past observations made by this little boy.

"Anymore?"

"Yeah," he said, digging further into the bag of treats. "Not since we were in Ireland."

"Oh. So he had a girlfriend there?"

"One time, yes," Roland said with a nod. "But she went away. It made Killian sad."

"I'm sorry," Emma said, unsure of how to respond but trying anyway. "Did you know her?"

"Uh huh," he replied casually. "But when she left, Killian didn't want her to go. Dad says it made his heart hurt. Now he doesn't like to have girlfriends anymore."

Emma furrowed her eyebrows and gaped at the simplicity of how Roland understood Killian's apparent heartbreak. She couldn't help but think that if Roland remembered, it couldn't have been too long ago. Little kids didn't have the best retention.

"That sounds like it was hard for him," Emma said after a moment. "It makes people sad when they have their heart hurt by someone else."

"I know," he said in agreement. "But I don't think Killian would hurt yours. He thinks you're nice."

"He does?"

"Yes," Roland confirmed with a smile. "He talks about you sometimes."

Emma pursed her lips self consciously. What could Killian possibly have to say about _her_ to a four year old?

Despite the spontaneous extended stay at the game, Emma found herself truly enjoying spending time with Roland. It was refreshing to be surrounded by the innocence of a simplistic life and she wondered why people became so complicated as they got older. She didn't press him for anything else about Killian, but the information he had volunteered lingered in the back of her mind. Perhaps it was an additional piece to the broken man she believed Killian was.

Robin was eternally grateful for Emma's willingness to help with his son and Killian seemed to mirror that - but perhaps he was happy about the win as well. Regardless of reasons, the four of them spent the tail end of the night at the local diner for a late meal. They talked about the game and avoided chat about Boston. Robin was clearly interested, but he seemed to sense....something....and he opted to stay out of it. By the time they were all about to split, Roland had all but dozed off on Killian's shoulder. Emma mused at the sight. Who knew - Killian Jones had a soft side.

###### 

It may have been the discovery of this soft side that coerced Emma into the debate of attending the game the next night. This time, she'd find herself without a companion and that was not a helpful bit of knowledge. She had fought herself for hours or whether to go or not. It would be weird for her to just show up without a reason. Yet as she drove to the gym, she realized the game would be close to ending soon and she could probably chat with one of the random other teachers that might be there. Yeah, that would work. Not a big deal.

She found herself correct as she entered the gym with the final seconds ticking down. The game was a depressing blowout - Killian had said it would be when he had texted her that morning to thank her for the previous night. She peaked to the bench where she found him in clothes similar to the ones she'd seen - this time a gray shirt with blue pants. Same _stupid_ shoes. He didn't notice her by the time the buzzer sounded and groans filled the room. They'd lost as predicted and that caused the court and the gym to be vacated unusually fast. He was talking to a parent idly when he finally spotted her, his lips twitching up in disbelief. She smiled understandingly as she watched him talking, but he must have sensed she was thinking of leaving so he held a finger up to ask her to wait a minute. Her feet glued themselves to the floor.

"Well, what are you doing here, Swan? Couldn't stay away?"

"I've come to relish in your defeat," she taunted playfully. "It's not every day that you get knocked down a notch on the ego ladder."

"Too soon, love," he laughed. "I kind of predicted this outcome so it doesn't sting too bad. Since you're here, you can keep me company while I shut things down if you'd like?"

He was asking - no, _wanting_ her to stay. His eyes looked uncharacteristically hopeful.

"Okay."

He began to fiddle with switches that controlled the scoreboard, sounding the buzzer once to startle her. He laughed hard when she jumped at the unexpected noise. She glared at him, not amused by the action but very amused by his humorous reaction. He wandered around to gather up water bottles, tossing them in a mesh bag on the floor. He smirked for a moment, picking up one of the basketballs and tossing it to her. She caught it with a raised eyebrow.

"What would you like me to do with this?"

"Should be obvious, love," he replied, tilting his head to the court. "Do you play?"

"Not for a long time."

Emma had dabbled in sports a bit in junior high and even played a couple years of high school basketball, but other than that, she had kind of benched herself over the years. She wasn't about to go one-on-one with Killian - and that wasn't _just_ in reference to sports.

"Well, come on," he said convincingly. "Just for a minute."

She sighed and moved forward, the ball hitting the floor in a steady dribble. He didn't move as she journeyed closer to him. Once she was within distance of doing so, she pushed the ball against his chest and he drew his hands back around it.

"All yours, Jones."

He smiled and turned on his heel, dribbling twice, and sinking a three point jumper. He looked back to her for validation and when she shook her head in astonished laughter, he took a chance to move closer.

"Don't tell me you doubted me?"

"As if I _ever_ would," she retorted comically. "We both know you wouldn't allow that."

A grin split across his face and he took a step toward her, the ball rolling away. He was close enough for her to see the shape of his lips, to remember how they'd felt when he kissed her. His eyes were challenging as if asking her to dare and stop him, but also with an understanding that it would be okay if she did. He wasn't cornering her. He was just there - hopeful and awaiting permission to kiss her senseless.

"You're doing it again."

"Oh," he said, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off her shoulder. "Doing what exactly?"

"That - that thing....that you do."

"You've got to be more specific, love."

He was patronizing her with a knowing laugh. He knew exactly what he was doing. He just wanted her to say it. She knew she should - she shouldn't back down when he got like this. But if she explained, then what? He would kiss her. For the _third_ time.

"Come on, Swan," he said compliantly, pulling his keys from his pocket. "Let's get out of here and get something to eat."

###### 

Emma had breezed through the next day of school with the intention of staying later that night to catch up on a few things. Her burst of energy was quite likely possible from the coffee that came at lunch time that day instead of the morning.

_Humor is the most engaging cowardice. -Robert Frost_

She smirked at the way he seemed to be challenging her opinion of poets by leaving a "mysterious" cup on her desk when she'd been making copies on her break. She had to wonder if that little jab was directly toward just her or perhaps both of them.

Around seven o'clock that night, Emma found herself finishing up the endless process of grading final exams while immersed in the silence of the school building. The creepiness usually set in around that time, but as a midnight warrior of teaching, she had found a method to deal with that particular madness. She found her phone and pulled open the music tab. She had a bulletin board to finish and letting the vocals of Prince accompany her as she did that wouldn't be a crime. The beginning pop sounds of "When You Were Mine" beamed from the little speakers she had on her desk for this purpose and she clicked her stapler a few times in preparation of conquering this new task. About a verse in, she couldn't resist the few unsolicited dance moves that seemed to continue well into the bridge of the song. Nobody was there so it didn't matter. _Wrong._

"Oh my _god!_ You scared me! _Why_ are you here?!"

Killian was leaning against the doorway of her classroom, legs crossed at the ankles and his head tilted in vicious humor. His hair was disheveled per usual and he looked unfairly sinful in those same basketball shorts she'd first seen in Boston and a white shirt plastered with the Nike logo. The worst part of his appearance was the smug, provocative, terrible, _wonderful_ grin on his face.

"Oh please, Swan, don't stop on my account."

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Oh, you know, only since-" he mimicked some little twisty motion she'd apparently been doing. "-that move."

Emma begged herself to remain collected. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her sweat.

"Do you have a reason for being here, Jones?"

"Oh you mean other than witnessing that little display? Actually, yes," he teased, moving into the room and making a seat on the counter. "When you weren't at home, I figured you be here and yes, I do have something to talk to you about."

God, didn't the man ever call before just showing up? She looked at him expectantly, walking over to turn the music down and then moving around to the front of her desk. She stood adjacent but facing him, leaning back against the edge of the wooden desk. He seemed bothered a bit by something as he scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Okay," she said, trying to break the silence. "I'm all ears."

"Alright," he said as he took a deep breath. "So this cabin thing this weekend....I'm in a big of a snag."

Emma felt her heart tumbled downward in her chest. She saw the look of disappointment in his eyes. She hoped she was wrong about what he was trying to tell her.

"You can't come?"

"Oh no, it's not that," he said quickly, shaking his head to reassure her. "It's just - well, I promised Roland I'd take him camping this weekend. I promised him ages ago and I'd forgotten about it until he reminded me when I took him to the park this afternoon. Normally I'd reschedule and Robin wouldn't care, but this weekend is - well it's...."

"Killian," Emma said, trying to get him to just spit it out already. "It's okay - just tell me. It's what?"

"It's the anniversary of Robin's wife's death. Two years actually. That's why I planned this trip a while back. I figured the distraction would be good for him - for both of them."

He looked at a loss for a solution. Emma melted a bit as she realized how thoughtful he had been in throwing together something to help Robin and Roland through what had to be a very difficult time. He seemed frustrated and almost ashamed that he hadn't realized the two events fell on the same weekend. Emma's head began to reel a bit, conjuring up an idea that might be a bit hasty but perhaps the perfect solution as well.

"Let's bring them with us."

Killian's eyes shot up to meet her gaze. He looked as if he was sure he hadn't heard her right.

"What?"

"I said," she replied, a slight smile on her lips. "Let's bring them with us - let's bring them to the cabin."

"Wait....really? Are you sure?"

He looked concerned but a little optimistic at the inkling that maybe she was serious. Emma picked her brain for a moment. The weekend at the cabin was this whole family thing. The cabin belonged to David and Emma's shared grandparents and it was a pretty popular gathering spot when everyone wanted to get together. There would be many people in and out over the course of the weekend plus plenty of space for anyone who chose to stay overnight. Regina would be there which meant she'd bring her son, Henry, and Jefferson was coming so Grace would be around too - Roland would have other kids to hang out with. It all seemed to fit.

"Yes. I think it's a great idea," Emma said, nodding firmly. "Do you think they'll go for it?"

Killian looked confounded. It seemed like he was amazed that she'd be willing to sacrifice sharing their weekend with them. Once his initial shock wore off, his face filled with gratitude as he tapped the edges of the counter.

"I think I can manage to talk them into it."

"Okay," she said cheerfully. "Then let's plan on it."

He grinned in agreement and moved into her proximity. She straightened her posture and found herself falling into his blue, _blue_ eyes. His breath hitched for a moment and Emma found herself in the familiar position where Killian Jones usually had her before he kissed her. She waited a moment, watching his lips turn up into a half smile.

"Thank you, Emma," he began softly. "It means a lot....to me."

"Of course," she said, still in awe that he thought this was such a big deal. "It should be fun."

He didn't use her first name often. She supposed it meant he was truly grateful as the few times she had heard it were during genuine moments. His eyes suddenly shifted to the bulletin board and then back to her.

"Swan?"

"Yes?"

His eyes grew a lighthearted sort of lusty as they focused on hers. She anticipated it, preparing herself for the feel of his lips on hers. She tried to prepare for it mentally.

"Your borders are crooked."

He lifted up quickly on his toes and placed a soft, sweet kiss on her forehead. _Damn you, Killian Jones,_ she thought.

###### 

That night when Emma arrived home, she trudged up the steps to her front door in an exhausted state yet still sifting through the encounter with Killian. She went to pull open the outer glass door when the swinging frame bumped a book that had been left on the doorstep. A small card sat on top of it, held down by a piece of natural twine. She walked inside and dropped her bag by the couch before flipping the card open.

_Thoreau once said "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life and to see if I could not learn what it had to teach and not when I came to die, discover that I had not lived" - so I figured while we spent the weekend doing just that, you should have something to read. Perhaps it's time to take another chance at appreciating the validity of a classical work. After all, she picked a great name. -Killian_

Emma grinned foolishly at his well placed quote and also at the thoughtful gesture. She couldn't help but notice that he'd actually signed his name rather than his initials. She was trying to shake off what exactly that meant when she noticed the embossed letters of the book, sunken beautifully into the leather cover - _Emma_ by Jane Austen. _Well played, Jones,_ she thought with a laugh.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay here we are! Sorry this one took so long to write! School got the best of me these past couple of days. The next update will hopefully be much faster :) thank you for your patience and support with this story! Your reviews have been the highlight of my day! As always, all characters/rights belong to OUAT - and a shout out to Jane Austen for the bit of paraphrasing you'll come across ;)

"David, this is really not nearly as big of a deal as you're making it seem."

Emma had been on the phone for the better part of an hour with her nosy cousin discussing what she believed were very nonessential details for the weekend. It wasn't David's fault really - his heart was in the right place as it always was. Emma just disliked the topic he'd chosen to harp on. She tried to keep the you're-being-a-pain-in-the-ass tone out of her voice.

"It _is_ a big deal, Em," he tried in a convincing tone. "This is what always happens whenever we bring anyone new to the cabin. We invite people for a "fun filled time" with our families and it takes them about five minutes to look around and figure out that neither of us have much in regards to actual relatives. It just seems a little misleading to call it a 'family retreat'. You need to talk to him."

"Yeah, I get it, Dave," Emma sighed, switching her phone to the other ear as she continued to throw things into her suitcase. "Then we spend the next hour awkwardly explaining the absence of Mr. Nolan plus the Swans and then the rest of the weekend we're drenched in sympathy. I don't want that any more than you do, but, _ugh_....it's just not a very fun conversation to start with people. I'd prefer to avoid it."

"Emma, you know you can't. I'm just saying you should get it out of the way before you have to do it with everyone else around."

Emma sighed heavily. David was right. He always was when it came to this sensitive subject. She waited out the pause on the other end of the line.

"You guys have been dating like a year," David said, more curious and kind this time. "He's never asked you?"

Their fake relationship had been going on much less than a year, but Emma let the question run through her mind anyway. No, he _hadn't_ asked. Killian was a pretty intuitive person it seemed - she pondered the idea that he'd most likely wondered about Emma's family structure, but even if he truly had, he'd never mentioned it. She thought back to the knowledge she had gained about Killian's own relatives and wondered if don't-ask-don't-tell was a policy he typically followed.

As her mind searched for a way to turn her thoughts into a suitable response for David, the presence of a sleek, graphite blue truck rolled into view. Good _hell_. Was he kidding?

"Look, Dave, I gotta go...."

"Just think about it, Emma," he nearly pleaded. "I just....I want you to be happy."

"I know," she said, touched by the sincerity beaming from the other line. "I'll see you soon."

She had barely ended the call when the ignition of the truck that clearly belonged to the now spoiled, lucrative Killian Jones shut off and the driver's side door opened. It frustrated her to no end that he just couldn't have one car with an outlandish monthly payment like many others do, but of course, it wasn't like him to be part of the norm. Damn, this man was an insufferable piece of work.

She knew she should just grab her things and go outside. Coming to the door to get her and him highly likely trying to carry her bags seemed like such a boyfriend thing....but she figured that she could implement this "dating" act slightly early if it would give her a little extra time to see what - or in this case _who_ \- she was dealing with.

He was dressed like a true modern wilderness man in most endearing way - faded blue and white flannel, fitted well worn jeans, and one of those hooded winter vests that strangely enough looked perhaps a little attractive. Emma chided herself for even going there. She silently wondered where the quick witted, teasing version of herself had gone.

"Swan," he said with a heart stopping smile as Emma opened the door. "Ready to brave the great outdoors?"

"Well, apparently _you_ are," she grinned, gesturing to his clothes and then to his truck. "Pulling out all the stops for this one, huh?"

"Uh, well," he smirked as he scratched behind his ear. "Figured I'd leave my fancy clothes at home and come prepared - vehicular speaking."

She rolled her eyes at his nonchalance and he mimicked her as he reached for her bag. Their hands brushed lightly and Emma drew hers back quickly at the fiery feeling on her skin. He noticed her nervous twitch and he pursed his lips flirtatiously. They started down the steps and Emma wracked her brain for a snarky comment in an attempt to balance things out.

"I wouldn't have ever thought you'd pick blue. I was under the impression that Killian Jones was 'dark and dangerous' - a mysterious man of mystery."

"I'm guessing you were expecting....black? Assuming you'd like it to match the estimated color of my soul?"

"Well, I wasn't expecting anything because I wasn't _expecting_ another vehicle," she said with a feigned annoyance. "Most teachers that I know don't own a fleet of recently manufactured vehicles - no matter how youthful and single they are. Roland isn't even here for you to impress."

"Ah no, but _you_ are - and he will be at the cabin later," Killian retorted casually. "Best to come prepared."

She smacked him with her jacket as she climbed into the front seat. New car smell. So awfully fantastic.

"Ready, Emma?"

Her heart always flip-flopped when he used her first name. His excited eyes reminded her of the book she'd tucked into her bag. Her mind drifted back to the conversation she'd had with David. She hoped Killian wouldn't regret that enthusiastic gaze in the foreseeable future.

"As I'll ever be."

###### 

Emma really wasn't sure why they had always called it a cabin. It was more of a harbor side vacation style home, but it was located up on the rocks which made for a killer waterfront view. She was in the process of explaining all of this to her overly curious companion when they stopped to top off the gas tank before heading out to the bay. As the pump started, Killian took it upon his arrogant self to clean the windshield with a seductive smirk. Helpless against his tormenting eyes, she chuckled in defeat and buried her face in her new book to avoid any further challenge from him.

"Well, well," he said, quite surprised but pleased. "Looks who has accepted the task of altering their literary mind. The absence of stubbornness looks lovely on you, Swan."

"Oh _hell_ , those are the kinds of condescending comments I get to look forward to?"

"My lips are sealed, love," he winked, starting the truck and adjusting his seatbelt. "At least about that."

Emma tried to ignore his cockiness, but she felt a small smile cross her lips anyway. He pulled the truck back onto the main road that would lead them right into the weekend within an half an hour or so. Killian seemed to radiate that familiar, slow burning fire and Emma struggled to focus as she read the same line about six times in a row.

"Read me something, Swan."

She raised an eyebrow at him and he didn't hesitate to mirror her taunt. She bit her lip as she thumbed through a few pages. She'd actually started it the night before, but he didn't need to know that.

"Okay, let's see," she agreed, hoping it may distract her from the building tension in the vehicle. "Give me a second...."

There were many little quips in the story she'd already read and actually liked, but she'd quickly caught onto the theme of the classic book. She only hoped Killian hadn't - she liked to hope he had only seen the name, the author, and the complimentary coincidence when he'd purchased it. As her eyes scanned, she stumbled over the line _"I may have lost my heart but not my self control"_ and she laughed inwardly and ironically. Flipping to the next page, she found a lengthy paragraph that she hadn't seen before and figured that the more text she read, the less she'd have to allow him to agitate her.

"Okay, Jones, here's one - _'I cannot make speeches, Emma. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma. God knows, I have been an indifferent lover. But you understand me. Yes, you see, you understand my feelings and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.'_ "

God _dammit_. She was truly talented at walking herself right into these types of situations. It was those unexpected words from Jane Austen's protagonist Mr. Knightley that drew a slight, humming laugh from Killian. Emma eyed the clock, eagerly counting the minutes until the truck would stop and she could jump off the nearest seaside cliff. Jane Austen was _not_ helping her case. Not at all.

###### 

"Emma!"

Roland came bounding up the steps of the cabin's front porch, once again thrilled to see his new friend. Killian was inside, but promptly presented himself when he heard Robin's truck pull up. Roland had his little arms wrapped around Emma in a happy hug and she had to keep herself from cracking up at the put off, perhaps even a bit jealous pout on Killian's face.

"Ms. Swan," Robin said kindly. "Thank you so much for the invite. It was pretty idealistic to anticipate this weekend in the woods - although I hope you won't be disappointed when I don't express my gratitude in the same way Roland has."

"Your 'thank you' is perfectly sufficient," she laughed, glancing down to Roland at her side. "It's actually a pleasure to have you both."

"Emma, you don't _live_ here, do you?"

Roland looked perplexed by the size of the large, classic structure of the house. Emma had seen that look a few times on the face of visitors to their getaway location. The house was truly beautiful. David had spent a lot of time updating things with some mutual family funds and the shared ownership of the place helped it stay in working condition. Her cousin had worked the past few summers modernizing the inside of the house - new light fixtures, appliances, countertops and such - but he'd left the integrity of the home's original plan intact. Emma was always very fond of the hardwood, smooth deck and the weather wood siding - something Killian didn't hesitate to comment on the moment they'd arrived. She recalled the way the bay windows would provide a welcome light once it darkened and the view from the rocks at the edge of the grass. After a while, you could set your watch by the sound of the calm waves rolling up on the nearby shore. It was home - the _only_ home that Emma knew outside of Storybrooke.

"No, Roland," Emma smiled. "I just come to visit sometimes. I'm so glad you get to be here this time."

"Me too," he replied with that goofy grin. "I like to be by the water and....that's a _lot_ of water."

Emma mused at his fascination with the location and Killian, finally having enough of being ignored by his little friend, moved forward to lift Roland up for some well planned tickle torture. The little boy roared with laughter and Killian seemed satisfied with the response, a toothy grin escaping him.

"Hey Emma. Mom and David say we should get some firewood before it gets dark. So....Killian? Want to come with me?"

The voice belonged to Henry, Regina's only son. He had recently turned thirteen and though he was aging, Emma still maintained a heartfelt relationship with him. He had always wanted to spend time with her and the two had bonded over books from the second he could read. Apparently, in the minimal time since they'd actually landed at the cabin, Killian and Henry had become thick as thieves.

"Sure, kid," Killian nodded with flattery. "Can we drag this little guy along?"

"I don't see why not," Henry laughed at the still very cheeky Roland. "I'm Henry. You must be Roland."

"Yep," Roland replied, mimicking his father's words. "A real pleasure to meet you."

Henry ran in to grab a jacket while Robin chased a fascinated Roland to the rocks that somewhat hid the view of the harbor. Emma heard them chatting idly about sailboats as Roland pointed to the water, asking a million questions a minute. Emma found herself with her feet planted on the deck, staring at a truly elated Killian.

"See," she began, a half smile on her lips. "Not so bad."

"Not at all, Swan," he said sweetly as he shook his head. "It's-they're great. It's all great. Thank you....I mean, for bringing me."

"I feel like I should be saying the same to you for being here."

"A real pleasure," Killian replied, copying Roland's friendly words from before. "I'll be back."

Emma had expected him to hurry down the steps with Henry momentarily following him, but once again, he didn't do as she had anticipated. It took her a moment to realize the feel of his hands on her hips and the subtle way his lips caressed hers. It wasn't heated as it had been in the past, but more comforting and caring. She felt herself leaning in and raising a hand to the back of his neck. Before the kiss even began to deepen, she pulled back. Why had he kissed her? Then she remembered it was part of the _act_ , especially since now there were a variety of others around. She tried to remember this conclusion as his eyes settled on her. The light blue affection seemed to be fiercely questioning that resolve.

"Okay," Henry said, reappearing on the deck. "Let's go."

Killian smiled a soft, subtle expression at her. Emma found herself still fighting for words, her mouth slightly agape.

"See you soon, love."

As Killian and Henry snatched Roland away from his father, Robin began walking back toward the deck. Emma found it strange that he'd stayed behind, but when she saw him breathe a sigh, she realized the break from full time dad for a moment was probably something he was happy for.

"I guess I better get things unloaded."

"Want some help?"

"Sure," he said, oddly thankful. "I'll probably need your direction on where to drop things anyway."

Emma hardly recognized the man she followed. She'd been so used to Killian and Robin being these thorns in her side for as long as they'd taught at the junior high. The two men that had evolved in Emma's mind were quite the surprise. She couldn't help but wonder what else would blindside her during the remainder of the weekend.

###### 

"Emma? Can I ask you something?"

They'd figured out which room Robin was going to inhabit with his son and Emma was trying to make sure they had enough of everything - pillows, blankets, towels.

"Umm, sure."

"I don't want to seem bold and it's probably not much of my business," he began, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning against the windowsill. "But what are you and Killian doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"He told me a bit about this arrangement - how you wanted him to help distract your family from your real relationship status during the course of these wedding events," Robin explained. "But I have to wonder what you are both really up to."

"I don't know what you mean I guess," Emma said, shaking her head. "It's just....business as usual - playing pretend, if you will."

"Emma, I've known Killian a long time," Robin said, his eyes focusing on her. "Let me be the first to tell you that he's not pretending _anything._ "

Emma didn't know how to reply to that so she froze and gave him a slightly earnest look. He seemed to be searching for the right words - the ones that would keep him from overstepping any boundaries.

"Just....just be careful," Robin finally settled. "He's just....Killian is just not-"

"As tough as he acts?"

Robin gave her confirmation in the form of a half smile. Emma wasn't sure how she knew what he was going to say, but she did - and she knew it was true the moment the words left her mouth.

"I know we've been less than pleasant to deal with in the past," Robin said guiltily with a crooked smile. "But he's a good man."

Emma didn't need Robin to tell her that - she'd figured it out over the past couple of weeks.

"I'm starting to see that."

"Good," he said with a friendly nod. "I'm glad we can agree on _something_."

Emma had to chuckle at the way the dynamic of her relationship with these two colleagues had changed so quickly.

"Well, since we've agreed to agree for once," Emma said, folding a final blanket. "There's someone I want to introduce you to."

"Ah, should have known," he laughed. "It seems fitting that you two would plan some sting operation on my behalf. Lead the way?"

When had she become Killian's partner in crime? Emma furrowed her eyebrows at the thought that somewhere along the way, she began working with him instead of against him. The real surprise, she found, was how much she actually liked being on his side.

###### 

Dinner had been a happy mess of conversation between the congregation of visitors who'd found themselves at the cabin. Besides the expected couple to wed and Emma plus her guests, the room included Regina and Henry as well as Ruby and her boyfriend, Victor. David's mother, Ruth, had also joined them, but she would leave after dinner as she usually did - she wasn't one to linger. Jefferson and his daughter, Grace, would be coming in from Boston in the morning.

Emma had been honestly quite thrilled at how well Robin seemed to be getting along with Regina. She hadn't seen Regina so easy going or just generally happy, well, ever. Roland and Henry were immediate friends - something Emma was glad for. It seemed right for them to have each other in such a strange almost brother-y way. Chat of the wedding seemed to fill the Nolan corner of the table and Emma nearly burst out laughing at the exasperated, exhausted expression on David's face.

"See, Swan," Killian whispered, sliding his arm across the back of her chair. "Not so bad."

She smirked at the way he copied her earlier words. It really wasn't - she wondered if that was something she could attribute largely to his presence. 

"The night is young," she winked. "But so far, so good."

He sighed cheerfully, clearly aware of his success. Emma leaned back in her chair to absorb the atmosphere and within a few minutes, Killian's sneaky grip moved around her, his thumb stroking her shoulder. She peered at him from the corner of her eye and waited for the wink - but it didn't come. Instead, she received one of those genuine Killian Jones smiles. She wasn't sure how many more of those she was going to be able to handle.

###### 

Things died down quite a bit by the time dinner was cleared. Roland and Henry had set up a movie marathon in the room David had converted into a theater of sorts a few years back. Robin and Regina had, of course, opted to join them and Emma made a mental note to follow up on that later. David and Mary Margaret had gone for a walk down by the water just after Ruth left and Emma assumed Ruby and Victor had gone upstairs to do something _hopefully_ civilized and contained. 

She found herself strolling about the house, picking up odds and ends - a pillow here, someone's shoes there. Teacher mode took over most often on these trips and she found herself tidying up even when it wasn't necessary. She was about to head up the stairs, curious where Killian had ended up, when she heard the smooth sound of guitar strings coming from the porch. 

He didn't spot her immediately so she watched him in this interesting state of solitude. He sat in one of the rocking chairs Emma's grandfather had made years ago with her brother's old guitar on his lap. He looked focused as he fiddled with tuning pegs, strumming here and there as the sound shifted up and down. It was peaceful to see him like this - no act to put on and no innuendo to toss out. He was completely unguarded. Emma couldn't resist the chance of finding out what she could do with that.

"I don't think anyone has played that thing in years."

His head lifted up in surprise - perhaps he hadn't seen her there at all - and he grinned sheepishly. She strolled over to the neighboring chair.

"It doesn't sound that way," he said honestly as he looked to her for approval. "I didn't mean to meddle. Dave just said-"

"It's fine," she assured him with a grin. "Neal doesn't make it here often. In fact, he works so much now that I don't imagine he even plays music at all anymore."

Yes, it wasn't lost on her that the one real relationship she'd had in her life shared a name with her little brother. Let's hear it for terrible coincidences.

"Neal is your...."

"Brother. He's my little brother," she replied. "I haven't seen him for quite a while."

"You have a brother."

He said it more as a statement than anything else. Family wasn't an easy thing for either of them to talk about and Emma's mind traveled back to David's earlier request. This would probably be the best chance she'd get.

"You don't ask many questions about such things, do you?"

"Don't want to pry, Swan," he said after a moment. "We all have our brokenness. I figure you'll tell me whatever you'd like me to know."

"But if I gave you a chance to ask," she began cautiously. "What would you _want_ to know?"

His hands stilled and he eyes her suspiciously. She felt her breath catch in her throat at the way she'd just opened a whole floor for him to interrogate her. He pursed his lips, searching her eyes for something. 

"Where are they?"

"My parents?"

She was long familiar with that inquiry - so much so that she knew exactly who the mysterious "they" referred to. He didn't reply, but she caught his subtle nod and attentive gaze.

"They're - gone. Have been for a long time."

He wasn't going to press the issue. He would have accepted it if that's all she had to say. Emma steadied her mind and her breathing so she could continue. If anyone would get it - the feeling of being lost - it would be him.

"My parents were big business executives and they traveled for work constantly. I all but grew up with David at his mom's house. They were rarely around and when they were, it was like we were strangers. I guess I hoped that might change one day," she narrated. "When I was right around Henry's age, they were on their way home from New York during a sudden blizzard. Multiple car pile up. They didn't make it back."

At this point, Killian had his back pressed against the chair while his understanding eyes seem to perforate Emma's heart. She paused, anticipating that apology that had so often followed that story. After a moment, Killian leaned forward, finding her hand and dragging his fingers through hers before grasping it with a warm touch. 

"Tragedy isn't a fun mask to wear, love," he said thoughtfully. "I'm sorry you've had to learn to do it so well."

She'd heard a million different forms of sorry in her life, but that wasn't one of them.

"I could say likewise."

"Ah," he said softly, an ironic grin building on his face. "I wish I could say we have something far more pleasant than this in common, love."

"Perhaps we do."

"Yeah," he sighed profoundly after a brief pause. "Perhaps we do."

Though it didn't feel like he was offering up his helpless sympathy, he did have quite the set of concerned eyes. Emma was very well versed in getting those looks from people. She had also gotten _very_ good at avoiding them. She felt herself shutting down, raising one wall up at a time. Her hand suddenly felt like it was on fire as the interlocking of their fingers became uncomfortable. She went to pull it away from him, but he immediately reached his other hand out to grasp her free one. She felt herself reeling, desperately trying to gain some space and composure. She was going to run. She _needed_ to run.

Killian stopped her - without actually stopping her. He straightened up, stroking her hands softly with his thumbs. She couldn't bring herself to look at the gaze that seemed to be drilling into her.

"Emma."

Something was happening. No, _no_. She wasn't going to cry. She'd moved past that. She wasn't broken - not anymore. Sure, she'd been left alone, but she had survived. Her life had always been a game of survival. She didn't need anyone to side with her. She was fine. She tried to reassure herself as a tear rolled down her cheek and she held in her shaky breath.

" _Emma._ "

This time when she tried to tilt her head further away, he gently caught the side of her face with a loving hand. She fell right into his vision, completely vulnerable and completely emotional. In a gesture she never expected, he reached up and smoothed the solitary tear away. The half smile that followed said more than he could ever vocalize - so he didn't. 

"Emma?"

She paused to gather her wits once again, trying not to break down while trying not to look too grateful for what he was doing. She wondered briefly who had done that for him in his moments of weakness - if he'd had any. Of course he had.

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to go make hot chocolate with me and bash on some famous writers for a bit?"

She sighed, amazed at how simple it was for him to change the entire mood of the world surrounding him. He had those hopeful eyes - the ones she'd fallen for more than a few times. It was interesting that this time she didn't really need convincing.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

###### 

He'd proven to be something of a boy scout, starting a flame in the fireplace with little effort. Finding the biggest, fluffiest quilt he could see in the room, he drew Emma into his arms once before draping it over her as they lay on the couch. He nestled into the corner, sitting in a relaxed manner as he plopped a pillow onto his lap. He grinned at her, inviting her to come closer. She wasn't going to fight him - not tonight - so she made herself horizontal and he drew an arm around her to pull her close. Killian lit a whole _other_ fire by bringing up Mark Twain, a man whose work Emma didn't admire in the least. He laughed at her passionate rant while he toyed with her hair in a moment that Emma soon found to be the perfect distraction. She remembered growing more and more wordless. She remembered getting more and more sleepy. 

Yet when she woke up, Emma could not recall in the slightest how she'd managed to make it upstairs to the - _their_ bed. She was alone, the bedside clock reading only 8:37 in the morning. She soon heard Roland's little voice downstairs and realized that Killian was highly likely to be on the receiving end of that voice. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to debrief the unexpected emotions she'd encountered only hours ago. She didn't like that the conversation had evolved the way it did, but at the same time, she didn't regret telling him. He'd divulged more than that to her. It was only fair that she do the same - that she let him in a little more. She didn't know why, but she wasn't worried. She admired the way he'd respected her demons and she knew that he understood the potential meltdown she'd had more than most others would. He wouldn't judge her - he never had.

Rolling over to face the nightstand, she noticed it - the hot, steaming red mug of coffee with a note off to the side.

_Never tell the truth to those who are not worthy of it. -Mark Twain  
Thank you for your honesty, love. I look forward to finding out that we do indeed have even more in common than heartache. Don't sleep too late. -Killian_

Although he seemed to take another instance to smack her with the words of another writer she didn't prefer, Emma felt a weight lift from her shoulders as a simple smile took over her mouth. It was time to navigate the next step in the maze that resembled her relationship with Killian Jones.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay :) this is a fun chapter so I hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you again for reading and supporting this story. It is far too entertaining to write it! I appreciate all your reviews and thoughts - I love to hear what you think so drop me a line if you would like to. Happy reading :) as always, all rights/characters belong to OUAT.

The day had been full of denial - yes, denial and the pure act of just holding it together.

When she'd entered the kitchen that morning, mug in hand, Killian was occupied talking sailboats with Roland. Of course, he tore his attention away fractionally so he could give Emma the sweetest good morning gaze she'd ever seen. She folded the corners of the small paper in her hand. She'd never played into his little literary game before. The words she had elected to scrawl on the back of Killian's note were not adorably cryptic or subtly flirtatious. Perhaps they were a bit more smoldering than expected, but there was no time like the present to raise the bar a bit.

Killian had just poured Roland and himself each a lofty bowl of cereal and as he found himself back in his chair, silly grin and ridiculously messy yet sexy hair, Emma peeked at the text she'd scribbled once more. _Eh_ , what the hell. This might even be fun.

"Good morning, _you_ ," she crooned, leaning into him with an unwavering gaze as she slid the paper across the table into his fingertips. "Thanks for the coffee this morning."

He eyed her curiously with a wicked grin. He was definitely interested in what she was playing at. Emma heard the crinkle of the note as she topped off her mug and a few seconds later, the clang of metal on a ceramic bowl pierced her expecting ears.

"Morning, Em," David said, entering the room with a happy face. "Coffee on the deck?"

"Absolutely. Be there in a minute."

She stilled herself in preparation before she turned to look at Killian. She put on her best seductive grin complete with what Ruby would call "bedroom eyes" as spun around. He was not at all where she expected him to be, but instead, he was standing inches away from her face. She was startled, but did her best to appear otherwise.

"Using Twain against me isn't good form, love," he said, turning the paper so her own handwriting stared back at her. "A bit early to be playing so dirty, isn't it?"

_There is a charm about forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable. -M.Twain_

His hand slid to her hip in a most unnoticeable way - not that a breakfast munching Roland would have noticed _anyway_ \- and he moved his lips within range of her ear. His hot breath made her skin tingle and she sighed in a terribly labored way.

"You'll pay for that one, Swan," he said softly, his lips skimming the top of her ear. "I think you underestimate my ability to play your game. I'm _very_ adept in the ways it can be won."

"Well then," Emma said, turning his hand so that the words on the paper were facing him once again. "Game on, Jones."

With that, she sauntered out of the kitchen and onto the deck with Killian watching her every move. What in the _hell_ had she just started?

###### 

The morning had gone back and forth in a burning, teasing, exhilarating form of torment. He'd interrupted her scheming during morning coffee on the porch as he slid onto the porch swing next to her, abruptly pulling her feet onto lap. He glared at her with a sultry challenge as he began to massage the soles, tickling her toes when he felt like she might be enjoying it too much. He was about to get kicked when he suddenly slid a hand up her leg - ankle to thigh - leaning forward to whisper in her ear.

"Your move, love."

_Bastard._

###### 

Emma had finally gotten the energy to get somewhat presentable for the day and had also found herself in need of some space from the heated gaze of her supposed boyfriend. She retreated to the bedroom, digging through her bag for something to wear in an attempt to distract herself from the little act on the porch. She'd found the sweater she was looking for and she stood to pull it over her head as she inwardly cursed the stupid attraction she'd allowed herself to have when he acted that way. As she tugged the sleeves up over her arms, something caught her eye. Her lips started into a gentle half smile, but quickly progressed to a full blown brilliant smirk. _Oh yes, this will do just fine_ , she thought as she divested herself of the recently located sweater.

A matter of moments and a few convincing deep breaths later, Emma found herself tromping down the stairs to the same room where she'd fallen asleep on his lap the previous night. He was reading - ridiculously sexy glasses and all. He didn't seem to see her so she quickly scanned her brain for a reason to walk _right_ past him in a manner he'd be sure to notice. She smoothed the sleeves of the shirt she'd put on - _his_ shirt. His soft, comfortable, all too _wonderfully_ smelling plaid shirt. The expression that immediately spread over his face when he saw her was priceless.

"Nice shirt, Swan. You know one might even call what you're doing illegal, right?"

He was frozen on the couch, but his eyes told her he was clearly affected by her little ruse. His eyebrows lifted slightly and he swallowed hard.

"That sounds like an accusation," Emma replied, her eyes sinfully teasing. "I'm _hardly_ guilty of anything here, Jones."

"I'd beg to differ," he said, quickly snatching her wrist and pulling her all too close right into his lap. "I'd call stealing my clothes quite the crime, Swan."

His arms were tight around her and she could feel his jagged breath. His eyes looked a whole new form of lusty - like she'd awakened some side of him that found the sight of her in his shirt completely and utterly arousing.

"I prefer the term 'borrow'," she countered, peeling herself out of his grip. "Unless you'd like me to _keep_ it."

His mouth dropped open as he watched her stroll to the doorway. She made sure to glance back at him in a most tempting way before she completely left the room.

They were even. Or tied. For now.

###### 

It didn't take long before Roland pried Killian's attention from the little game they'd been engaging in. She couldn't help but feel okay that she'd been bested by such a cute kid. 

"Killian, can we go to the water?"

He looked to Emma, almost as if he was asking her to join them. When she smiled back after a moment of hesitation, he nodded and Roland allowed his excitement to be known.

"Emma is coming too!"

Roland wasn't asking Killian if she could come - he was _telling_ him that she _was_. Robin laughed softly as Regina and Henry joined his side. The group of people that had ended up at the cabin was truly a real mixed bag. It was the oddest semblance to family Emma had ever seen, but she couldn't help how completely grateful she was to be a part of it.

###### 

The adventure to the water had turned into this whole actual....'thing'. Before Emma could figure out what the plan actually was, the entire crew began to make their way down the beach. David and Mary Margaret were the picture of truly smitten with her arm looped through his and a grin plastered on his face. Robin walked in an extremely inattentive way, completely mesmerized by the woman at his side. Regina mirrored him with a theatrical happiness that pleased Emma to no end while Henry buried his nose in a book as he simultaneously tried to navigate the path. Victor and Ruby strolled behind everyone else as they seemed to be soaking in every minute of their time away from Storybrooke.

The picturesque scene had only one unexpected problem and _he_ was currently chasing a curly haired boy across the sand.

Emma stopped at the edge of the rocks, her hair blowing in the gentle breeze as her mind contemplated the man in the distance. The actual problem was that he was doing far too great of a job making this believable. He was sweet and unimaginably understanding with the ability to still infuriate her to no end. He was dependable. He felt almost safe to her. Killian Jones wasn't the problem. No, the _real_ problem was that she no longer _had_ a problem with him.

"Careful, Emma," Robin said, landing next to her as Regina and Henry ventured down to the water. "I'd watch what you're doing there, m'lady. Wouldn't want you to.... _fall_."

She didn't miss the double meaning of his words. She eyed him knowingly, but when she peered back to where Killian ran barefoot through the water with a now drenched Roland, she realized that she was indeed resting on slippery terrain. Killian was so crazily carefree as he let the water rush around his feet while he tried to catch and contain the little boy. It didn't take long before his clothes began to dampen with the spray of the sea. Emma felt herself smiling at the breathtaking view - one that grew even more tempting when his boyish blue eyes locked on hers and he curled his fingers toward his chest, begging her to join them.

"No idea what you're talking about. I'm perfectly _stationary_ , Robin," Emma said in a very unconvincing way. "You needn't worry about my traction."

She didn't think about it. She didn't want to in that moment. Her mind resolved, Emma did the only logical thing she _could_ think of - she slipped off her shoes and made her barefooted way to Killian, who immediately soaked her with the same sea water that covered his skin when he pulled her into a flirty, wet embrace. She sloshed through the small waves in an attempt to escape him, but it was futile as he caught her and she fell right back into him.

Emma had no clue where her guard had gone, but as she watched him soak in the afternoon light, she realized that a little break away from her insecurities wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

###### 

It was _that_ kind of spontaneous thinking that had landing Emma in her current bind - soaked _and_ secluded with Killian Jones. She'd originally followed him into the bathroom so she could find something to dry off with and a brush for her mangled mess of hair. He took it upon himself to remove his shirt before he began to fiddle with the inner workings of the shower as he asked her to hand him a towel. Emma had turned around to meet this oh so unexpected sight, in the process nearly losing those same footings she had assured Robin of. _Why_ did he have to do this to her?

"Here," she said, nervously holding a towel out to him. "I'll just....be downstairs."

"Emma?"

She turned to peek at him, full well knowing she shouldn't. His hair was a mess - adorably sandy and salty from the water. His eyes that normally pierced her with that deep, daring blue had turned a lighter, sweeter hue. His mouth rested slightly open as if he has something to say but no words to help him do so. He furrowed his eyebrows at her, searching for something.

Emma found herself desperately curious about where the playful, seductive banter of the day had gone. _This_ \- well, this was just something quite the opposite.

"Killian, I trust that your intellect can help you operate the modern day shower."

He didn't retort. He didn't change the entranced look on his face even a fraction. He began a slow, guarded movement toward her, stopping only when his feet lay just in front of hers. He raised a steady yet cautious hand to cup her jaw, running his thumb carefully over her cheek. He hadn't given her the look on his face before - a subtle combination of passion and the purest hope. Emma was thankful that the pitter patter of shower water masked her anxiety ridden breathing.

" _Killian_."

He paused for a moment, but didn't retract his touch. He continued to watch her, his eyes stripping away the doubts she had so her soul seemed to lay bare to him. He seemed to notice it - the uncertainty and the brokenness - and he definitely understood it. He perhaps even saw _past_ it. He wanted to fix her. The most alarming part of the whole thing was that she _wanted_ to let him.

She knew what was coming, his breath growing shallow as his eyes looked lazily into hers. It was looks like that one that made her wish this was all real. She was having a difficult time remembering why she was fighting it so hard. Killian's free fingers tentatively reached for hers as Emma pondered the million of ways he could kiss her in that instance while wondering which one he'd pick. 

"Hey, Em? You in there?"

A soft knock filled the bathroom and Emma's eyes grew wide as the color drained from her face. Killian stood still but he arched an eyebrow at the door and then at her. _Ruby_. She and Emma were close - close enough that she wouldn't put it past Ruby to walk right in to get whatever had her knocking. It wouldn't typically be a big deal since the shower was stationed at the back of the bathroom and Ruby would be in and out before anyone could even say the word 'indecent'. Yet this - her with a half undressed Killian Jones - was a scene that would create _many_ questions and zero answers. Emma's mind cycled through escape plans. 

"Uh, yeah," Emma croaked as her vision moved about the room, desperately in search of a plan. "Just, uh....just hoping in the shower real quick."

"Well if you're decent, I just need to grab a couple of things," Ruby's voice continued from behind the door. "Coming in, okay?"

Out of options, Emma stumbled forward, shoving Killian and herself into the warmth of the spraying water. He looked at her with an unbelieving expression, his mouth wide open, as her personal astonishment regarding the impulsive solution took over. A humorous, adorable grin split across Killian's face and Emma pleaded with her eyes for him to remain quiet. He stood frozen in place as the warm water poured and ran down his body, his jeans and bare feet victim to Emma's irrational way of hiding from her friend.

"So how are things going with Killian?"

His eyebrow quirked up at Ruby's sudden question and Emma did everything in her power to gather a coherent, less than revealing thought. Why couldn't she just get her stuff and get out?! As the shower drenched her - sandy clothes and all - she wondered why terrible things happened to good people.

"They are....fine. Why do you ask?"

"You guys just seemed more comfortable together than what I've seen in the past," Ruby explained, creating noise as she tossed a few toiletries into a bag. "I guess this whole idea didn't turn out to be such a bad one."

Killian smiled softly at her, a gesture that quickly pulled her into that recent, well known blur of unrecognized emotions. She pursed her lips as her eyes remained fused with his, the water rolling down her face.

"Yeah," Emma responded. "I guess not."

"Em, do you....do you like him or something?"

Well, _that_ was out of the blue - okay perhaps not if you considered all the teasing glances and heated invasions of space that had accumulated over the weekend - but the question still slapped Emma in a way she wasn't prepared for. Killian's eyes grew challenging and a bit curious as he mused at the way he had suddenly become the most fortunate eavesdropper in the world.

"I-I don't know," Emma stuttered as she tried to formulate a safe answer. "I mean it's Killian. He's just....he....I don't know if it's like that."

"So I'll take that as a yes."

Killian all but laughed at her fumbled response and at Ruby's firm interpretation. Emma eyed him as she wondered what he'd wanted her to say. She wondered if this felt real to him - in any way at all. A steamy shower was certainly not the best place to be speculating.

"As much as I'd love to continue this interrogation, Rubes...."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ruby chided, zipping up the bag she must have been holding. "But for what it's worth, you two might be more right for each other than you realize, Emma."

Killian's eyes lit up at that and Emma ran a hand across the wet hair matting against her head. She peeked at him as he relished in being a fly on the shower wall. Why on _earth_ would Ruby make a comment like _that?_

"See you later, Ruby."

A gentle laugh and a closed door later, Emma stood toe to toe with a wet, boastful looking Killian Jones in a shower that seemed to be decreasing in size by the second.

"Stop."

"Stop what, love?"

"That look," Emma said cautiously. "Just.... _stop_."

"It's far from my fault that others have taken to observing our _chemistry_ , Swan," he said, shrugging sheepishly but with that same devilish smirk. "We are clearly quite the team."

Emma bit her lip and shook her head at him, trying to figure out the best way to exit the shower in soaking wet fabric and embarrassment. It didn't lake long for her to feel that burning gaze latch onto her. 

White. When she'd given up wearing Killian's shirt during a mid game truce, she'd traded it for a somewhat sheer, _white_ tank top.

God, _why_ was her luck so unbelievably terrible?

Normally she would have found any and every reason to get the hell out of there before he made any sort of passionate gesture but not this time. No, despite her rash panic about clothing choice, _this_ time she was much more curious about what action was brewing in his mind. With the impulsive force he'd had several times before, he sprung forward and kissed her hard, his arms pulling her wet body closer. She automatically drew one hand to his bare chest and the other into his drenched, dark hair. His lips moved skillfully against hers, showing an attentive sort of care that flattered her. He pushed her back slightly so the frigid tiles pressed into her flushed skin. His movements increased in speed and intention, but just when the heat seemed to be spiraling out of control, he stopped. His eyes opened abruptly as Emma tried to regain her breath. When she did finally look at him, the blue of his stare told her what he wasn't going to say.

No, not here. Not like this.

"Well," she said awkwardly, smiling more furiously than she liked. "Don't use all the hot water."

###### 

Emma sat twirling her pen back and forth as she tried to grade even just one stupid rough draft about themes in The Outsiders. After reading the same incomplete sentence about seven times, she paused and ran her hands down her face. This was pointless.

She'd arrived home just past dark in a flurry of confusion and emotion that truly seemed to complicate things as Killian parked the truck and walked her to her door, her travel bag in his hand.

"Well, Jones."

"Well, Swan."

They both grinned stupidly at their repeated, basically speechless statements.

"Not too bad for a weekend away," she tried, not wanting him to go but not asking him to stay. "Thank you, Killian."

"The pleasure's all mine, love."

He waited momentarily - maybe for a sign or maybe for her to kiss him. When neither happened, he leaned in sweetly and kissed her cheek. It was just like him to do something when she allowed herself to do nothing. _So freaking, unexplainably stupid,_ she thought as she watched him drive away.

Unintelligible text on lined paper did its best to distract her, but it was truly in vain - she was consumed by Killian Jones and his haunting, beautiful smile. She tossed the paper aside with the pen on top, dropping her head back against the couch. As she pondered the meaning of 'real', Emma tried to figure out when things had changed. She'd gone from total loathing to harmless flirting to kissing to kissing like _that_ in such a small amount of time. She never would have believed that she would fall for him quite like this. Emma didn't do happy endings, but he made her believe that maybe there was some possibility of a happy....something.

Deciding that trying to grade things effectively whilst enraptured by thoughts of her colleague was probably a bad idea, Emma riffled through her bag for the book he'd given her. _Yes,_ she still disliked Jane Austen. _Yes,_ she had made up her mind that she would _not_ alter her opinion on that. However, Emma Swan was nothing if not a consistent reader and she wasn't about to leave the book unfinished. She had barely flipped past the cover when the black ink of his pen scrawled on the inside cover caught her attention.

_I've always been intrigued by the Emma in this story-_

Ah, so he had read it. Yeah, of course he had.

_-I guess because she's so keen on finding happiness for others and maintaining her immunity to love. Perhaps that's why Mr. Knightley fell in love with her. She challenged him in every way that a man could be challenged. She was stubborn and arrogant, but beautiful in ways that he could and had always seen. It makes you wonder why two strong willed, completely impossible people who seemed to know everything took so long to find each other. Life and literature, Swan. The books always find a way. There's always a chance to relate. -KJ_

Emma snapped the book closed as her heart jumped into her throat. There it was - right inside the perfect handwriting of this insanely mesmerizing man. She'd been bested. Again. She snatched her keys and disappeared out the front door.

The clock on her dashboard read 11:38 as she sped along the dark road. They had school tomorrow. They'd been away all weekend. They were tired. He'd probably be asleep by now. She didn't care.

The second she pulled into the driveway, she threw off her seatbelt and sprinted up the steps. Her smooth knuckles knocked anxiously on the textured surface of Killian's front door. She was probably going to wake him up. He'd probably look exhausted. He might not be happy to see her. She didn't care. 

No, of course he'd be happy to see her - probably perplexed as hell but happy.

After a few moments, he pulled open the door mid knock as he yawned slightly and then furrowed his eyebrows over those studious rimmed glasses. He did seem _very_ surprised, blinking a few times - it made sense as Emma had been quite shocked herself. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he bare feet gripped the wood floor below. He wore a plain white shirt and the tousled state of his hair confirmed that he had been in some state of sleep.

"Emma?"

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"I, uh....I...."

She flexed her fingers at her sides, knowing the risk she was about to take was completely crazy. It was - but she just didn't care anymore.

She moved forward with a passionate force, grabbing him by the front of his shirt as she slammed her lips against his. She grazed the back of his head with the other hand, waiting for him to return the kiss. It took a fraction of a second for him to do so and as she tilted her head, his hands met her lower back in a gratuitous embrace. He seemed to breath her in like she wax some sort of drug - like he was finally relieving a tense craving that had been exhausting him. Emma felt a similar relief as she explored his mouth with abandon. 

The kiss was full of everything that had been building up since....well, possibly since the day he'd stolen her parking space. When he abruptly pulled back, Emma found herself gasping at the loss. She finally opened her eyes to a completely captivated but beyond bewildered Killian Jones.

"Emma," he sighed, exploring her eyes with intensity. "Wha....what are you doing?"

 _Something I should have done ages ago_ , she thought.

"I, umm....Killian, hey, uh....can-can I come in?"

He raised a weary eyebrow, but as the corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile, he opened the door wider so she could walk into the well lit house and out of the darkness. _Oh, the irony,_ Emma thought.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, friends....sorry about the sentiment - it's a habit from teaching little kids haha. Here's the next one and I have attempted to make it as tasteful as possible :) that being said, I regret nothing! Enjoy! All rights/characters belong to OUAT (because if they belonged to me, we wouldn't be sitting here waiting for those two to hook up already).

The slow movement of Killian's lips against hers made her forget the hard wood of the door against her back. She was sure how long they'd been standing there with her arms around his neck and his fingertips at her waist. She knew no matter the stretch of time, it probably wasn't long enough.

Killian slowly pulled back, his eyes remaining closed for a moment before they opened to an unbelievably captivating shade of blue. He still seemed vexed, his eyebrows furrowed, like he wasn't sure if this was real or if he had fallen victim to a dream. Regardless, he was truly taken aback as his mouth lay slightly ajar and he gripped her hips almost to ensure that she was physically there. She waited for him to say something or anything really, but his astute staring continued.

"Killian."

She'd said it in a whispered tone, almost like a prayer of sorts. His eyes closed as he sighed deeply at the sound of his own name. She was about to lower her hands when he returned his loving gaze to her.

"Killian," Emma said quietly. "You forget that I teach kids. I can have a silent, noncomplying standoff with you for _any_ amount of time - but I'd rather have you say something. Please."

"Emma, I....I, uh," He tried without success.

She mused at the rare sight of a speechless Killian Jones. If this were a different circumstance, she would have been brimming with victory. However, in this case, all she wanted was to know what was swirling around in his head.

It didn't take long for her to find out. He shook his head softly from side to side and dove straight back in to kiss her again, his hands clutching the sides of her face in the most senselessly passionate of ways. He was kissing her. He was kissing _her_ just after she had kissed _him_. Emma silently wondered when the world had subtly turned upside down. She couldn't help the delighted grin that crossed her face when he finally pulled back.

"Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you like pancakes?"

She looked around in a confusing manner, searching for the time. His eyes were animated at her assumption.

"No, no," he laughed, sliding his hands back to her waist. "I don't mean now. I mean tomorrow."

"For....breakfast?"

"Yes," he nodded happily. "For breakfast. I think it would be only right to make you breakfast if you'd be willing to stay here tonight - with me."

She felt a shiver crawl up her spine at his request. She was trying to discern the manner in which he wanted her to 'stay' when he pulled her closer.

"No, that's not what I meant, sorry," he said as he recognized the anxiety filling her expression. "I just....just stay with me?"

He looked as if he'd never be more grateful for anything else. It was like he.... _missed_ her. She had missed him. They'd spent all of that time together in Boston and when she'd been left to the emptiness that was her own house, she really _did_ miss him. There was a lusty undertone to this - that much she did know from their recent encounters - but in that moment, he wanted her in a totally different way. His stare was hopeful, a bit desperate even.

"Okay."

She didn't know how long they lay facing one another under the fluffy down comforter on his bed, but she knew she was safe there. She knew that eventually there would probably be a time when this particular situation would not be so platonic, but for now, he seemed so content to have her in his arms again. Emma finally fell into a restful sleep around 1:12 that morning in Killian's protective embrace and with the realization that she'd soon be teaching with very minimal sleep. Yet once again, for the millionth time that night, she could not bring herself to care.

###### 

**Jones, Killian:** Come sailing with me.

Emma had returned home after breakfast with Killian, one that he'd made while playfully barefoot and in the midst of several more kisses. Though they had been up to their necks in feelings in such a silent, ridiculous way for half the night, Emma wasn't as tired as she should be. She made it to school at a rather decent time and was immediately cornered by Anna, who had a thousand questions about the upcoming state writing tests. In their sporadic conversation, Emma had walked reluctantly past the wood shop where the lights were on. She had wanted to see him although she wasn't sure what she was going to say. Fortunately, she was able to tear herself away from Anna once the morning bell drew near and once her colleague left, the chime of the instant messenger on her computer let her know he must be thinking of her too.

That is how she ended up reading and rereading the text sent from Killian on the computer screen. She thought back to their first "not a date" thing on the sailboat - yes, the time when he'd specified that he'd take her sailing when he was truly in pursuit of her affections. 

**Swan, Emma:** Today?

 **Jones, Killian:** Tonight....and I guess part of tomorrow. Write some sub plans and come with me.

 **Swan, Emma:** Sailing at night? Is that safe?

 **Jones, Killian:** Of course it is. You'll be with me :)

She stared at the words on her screen. Safe with him. Her heart fluttered a bit at the possibility. Her fingers clenched and flexed in hesitation over the keyboard. She must have been contemplating too long for his liking as he sent another message.

 **Jones, Killian:** Swan. Come with me.

 **Swan, Emma:** I'm guessing you'd like to pick me up?

 **Jones, Killian:** Six thirty sharp. Bring a jacket :)

An anticipatory smile escaped her lips as the first bell rang. Emma began sifting her brain for methods of distracting herself through the ticking hours of the impending day that would likely drone on in the worst way.

###### 

"You can't wear shorts! You're going to freeze."

Emma had taken extra precaution in dressing warm as she knew all about the seaside chill in April. She found the softest, warmest fitted sweater she had - a dark gray one she'd bought on a New York shopping spree with Ruby - and paired it with her thickest fleece leggings and a pair of striped wool socks. She found her clothing choice quickly outweighed Killian's as he sauntered up the sidewalk in a pair of cargo shorts, one of his many pairs of boat shoes, and a hooded sweater that matched his eyes in the most gut wrenching manner.

"I, for your information, have that thick sailor skin," he said, scaling the steps with a grin and abruptly kissing her cheek. "Plus, I've got a few cool weather clothes I keep in storage on the boat - so I'll have the means to keep you warm if the water demands it, Swan."

His flirty words drew a blush from her cheeks. They didn't use to do that.

"Is it supposed to be cold?"

"Not from what I've heard," he said, peeking out to the water in the distance. "Maybe later tonight, but we can seek cover in the cabin when that happens."

"When?"

"I made it clear that we are spending the night on the water, right?"

Yes, he did. That, of course, is why she'd staying late at school to prepare for a substitute teacher. Emma hated leaving her class in the hands of someone else. She supposed that was the control freak side of her, but hey - old habits die hard.

"You did," she said, pursing her lips as he took her hand. "Just want to make sure that I'm not going to get frostbite or tossed overboard or something."

"I'm glad you have so much faith in my knowledge of the sea," he laughed, earning his a slap on the chest. "Don't worry, love. I've got you."

Emma climbed into the cab of the truck and as the passenger door slammed behind her, she realized he sure did.

###### 

It was absolutely, one hundred percent unfair for someone to look so delectable while tying a rope for god knows what. Emma had stationed herself at the bow per Killan's request on the cushioned seat that was covered in a texture of pillows and she quickly found herself straining to observe him. He moved about with such a conversant confidence, checking and examining the various inches of the boat. The waves rolled smoothly below them and as Killian's hair blew across his head in the soft breeze, Emma smiled at the sight. How on _earth_ had she ended up here? The last lengths of sunlight provided a bit of warmth and she pulled her jacket around her as she pondered the turn of recent events.

"You good, love?"

He stood several paces away, tilting his head to observe on of the sails near the back of the boat, but then immediately looking back to her. He looked happy - perhaps even ecstatic that she was there. It made her heart clench tightly in her chest.

"Yeah, I think so," she replied, looking out on the water. "I know nothing of sailing a boat so I guess I'll just have to trust that you'll get us where we are going in one piece."

"Hey, I like that," he said, quirking a smile at her. "The idea of you trusting me - it's got a certain appeal."

 _Of course it does_ , she thought.

###### 

By the time they reached a point just outside of Storybrooke and a ways from the nearest harbor, Emma could see exactly why he was so fond of sailing. It was a release - a way to get away. Sitting at the bow of the boat, her eyes on the slow motion of the water, she felt free. She felt safe.

The boat had eventually slowed and Killian shuffled around the ship, pulling them up to a floating line. As he worked, he explained the concept of "mooring" - like a way to anchor the boat without pulling it into harbor. He took extra care to fasten them to the buoy line, checking to see that everything was secure before joining Emma at the bow.

"You sure we won't get a parking ticket for sitting out here?"

"No, love, we won't," he said, rolling his eyes playfully. "Fortunately for you, I do happen to pay annually to tie up my boat here so no breaking of laws is necessary. Also, lucky for _us_ , there are only a couple of other boats within somewhat distant range so we have the sea to ourselves it would seem."

He pulled her into his arms at this comment, resting her back against his chest as his hands reached around to toy with hers. Her head rested under his chin as they both looked out at the sun slowly sinking below the horizon. His breathing was steady and calm - clearly coordinating with the peace he seemed to find out on the open water.

"Thank you for this," Emma began. "For bringing me. I guess I get it now."

"I'm glad you decided to cave," he replied, a smugly adorable grin on his lips. "I wanted you to see. I guess I figured you'd understand....this."

"I do."

She turned to smile at him, completely unprepared for the adoring look her gave her. Lifting a hand to the side of her face, he pulled her in for a slow, sensual kiss. It was different that the others - no rush and no declaration of passion. It was simple - and Emma liked simple.

"Hungry?"

"A little," she replied, arching an eyebrow at him. "You....cooked?"

"I told you I could," he said, rising from his cozy position to head down the steps to the cabin. "Be right back."

She listened to him shuffling things around, curious about what he could have planned. He seemed to do that a lot - planning things. Sweet things. Terribly thoughtful and flattering things.

"Ta-da, Swan," he smirked, lifting plates in the air. "Don't tell me you doubted me?"

"As much I _love_ to do that, I guess I didn't."

He laughed softly, returning to her where they could eat in the remaining daylight hours. The easy conversation they seemed to be getting so great at took over. She told him about the crazy class she'd had while student teaching years ago and he captivated her humorously with the tale of how he nearly cut his hand off when he was installing a new saw in the shop. The talk was filled with comfortable touches and knowing glances as they for once didn't have to put on a front for anyone. Once they'd finished eating, they resumed their previous position of her tangled in his strong arms as he nuzzled her hair and invoked another round of questions regarding writers.

"You know, Swan, I'm glad we can agree on Salinger," he stated sweetly. "If you didn't like _Catcher in the Rye_ , I would have to seriously question your ability to teach kids to love reading."

"It's a phenomenal book," she agreed with a nod. "But I trust you read others growing up?"

He paused, biting his lip as she turned to look at him. His eyes were questioning and Emma realized that this was probably the first or maybe the only time she had asked about _his_ preferences. 

"I did," he said, still surprised by her inquiry. "I loved reading growing up. I read all the time back in Ireland...."

He seemed to drift off a bit, obviously slightly overcome with a memory - or a tragedy perhaps.

"What did you read?"

"I was pretty keen on Fitzgerald for a while."

"No way," Emma said, her eyebrows shooting up. "But he's....such a distressed romantic. He led such a tormented life."

"He was also a genius," Killian defended with a smirk. "Historically, passionately....tragically. You don't like his work?"

"Oh, _no_ \- no, I love it," Emma clarified. "I just wouldn't peg you as a Gatsby fan."

"Ah, I see," he said, a gentle laugh escaping his chest. "I must say I always felt sorry for the poor guy - brooding after the impossible girl. He did everything in his life for _her_ and she was so oblivious to his sacrifices. I like to think that she knew - she knew what she was doing would keep him from winning her over."

Emma exhaled with amazement. She had seen the Killian that used books to his advantage, taunting her with passive aggressive quotes and leaving her strangely intimate notes, but this - _this_ was new. She snuggled backward into him, tracing circles on his palm as she decided to take a moment to be utterly and insanely cheesy. 

"I guess Gatsby was treated a bit unfairly. After all, 'he looked at her the way all women want to be looked at by a man'. It makes you wonder what made Daisy Buchanan so uptight."

"Perhaps she was," Killian chuckled, running his hands down her arms in a tender motion. "But perhaps she just didn't know how to accept that kind of undying love from such a generous man. She truly chose to be that 'beautiful, little fool' she claimed to be hopeful for in the book. I'd say the _real_ tragedy was that she knew she loved him, but her fear of loving him was greater than the choice of being unhappy."

Emma's eyes locked onto his as she flipped around basically in his lap at his analysis. In all the ways Killian had astounded her over the past weeks, this was one she didn't expect. He seemed to have a way of attaching Emma to famous novel characters - she'd learned that early on - but his conclusion of Gatsby's unrequited love opened Emma's eyes fiercely to the facts. Killian Jones cared about her. He _really_ did - in ways that perhaps no one ever had before. She was all too much of an open book to him.

As she examined the cobalt color of his eyes, he ran a thumb across her cheek. In the one instance where Emma should have felt compelled to run - to stop this - she didn't. Without hesitation, her hands buried themselves in his scalp as she brought his lips to hers. He rested a hand at the small of her back while threading the other through her long hair. Emma kissed him with everything she had, tilting her head into rhythm with his as his scruff tickled her skin. When she deepened the kiss, he moved his hands to her thighs, testing to see what she was truly wanting him to do. Her straddled position caused her to vibrate at his touch and she moved against him in a subtle grind. He gasped against her mouth, trailing a path of soft tongue and teeth down her neck to her collarbone. Emma bit her tongue, stiffling a moan as he ran skilled fingers up and down her back. After a moment, he drew in a jagged breath and pulled back with closed eyes.

"Emma," he started as he opened his eyes carefully. "I....is this....do you want to stop?"

His eyes looked tortured, like ceasing his actions might kill him. He _had_ stopped though, respecting the fact that he'd perhaps overstepped his boundaries. He wanted to give her an option. He wanted her to decide - to _choose_ this.

"No," she said, leaning her forehead against his. "No, I don't."

His gaze lit up and he bit his lip softly before diving back in, kissing her with that intense passion she'd felt before. His hands went to the back of her thighs as he coaxed her into wrapping her legs around him. Once she was in position, he stood and skillfully carried her to the steps while still continuing his gentle assault on her mouth. Letting her down at the top of the stairs leading into the cabin, Emma began to moved backwards with an unknown ability as she tugged him by his shirt collar to join her.

Tumbling into the cabin as they both kicked off their shoes in multiple directions, she glanced around rapidly as she searched for the bed. He began to nudge her to the back of the enclosed space where a door was open. As they continued to fumble their hands in conjunction with locked lips, Killian guided her to the bedroom where he lifted her once more to lay her softly on the mattress. He covered her, his contoured body heating every inch of her. As he began a repeated movement from the base of her ear down her neck, Emma swore she was going to melt into the bed.

"Emma. Is this....what you want?"

His use of her first name surprised her in the best way as she felt his sensual touch continue.

"Yes....yes, Killian. I do."

He stood for a moment to remove his shirt, tugged it quickly over his head. The action disheveled his dark hair and produced a smoldering look that abruptly covered his face. His body was sculpted in a way that the rain had only suggested the day they got caught in the storm. Each muscle responded with every move he made and Emma braced her hands against his chest, slowly sliding them up as he returned to his position. He pulled at the hem of her sweater, prompting her to quickly remove it along with her leggings. As the articles of clothing hit the floor, she slid up the bed as he crawled toward her. She tried to pull him under the blankets with her, but he stopped and furrowed his brow at her just before he moved to stand.

His gaze found hers and it burned a sinful passion into her skin as he unbuttoned his shorts, tossing them to the ground. He watched her watch him. They both seemed to be considering the impact of the moment - of making everything real. She found the honesty she'd come to appreciate in his eyes. It was enough.

He approached the bed, skillfully moving under the blankets as he hovered above her. Emma began at his shoulders and slowly drove her hands up his neck to pull him back down to kiss her. As she did so, he removed their remaining clothes, leaving them as a fusion of bare skin. His breath was shaky as he nipped at her ear, caressing her backside until she wrapped her legs around him once more. Emma felt the hard length against the inside of her thigh and as she shifted to produce the proper angle, she noticed the look of concern on his face.

"Emma, I...." he stuttered as he looked around the room, biting his lower lip in the process. "I don't....I don't know if I-"

Oh, of _course_ the man she felt so safe with would have a safety concern during such a heated moment. _Frustratingly_ responsible Killian Jones.

"Killian it's okay," Emma said as she stretched up to kiss across his chest. "We're, uh....we're covered."

Killian grinned in relief and leaned down to kiss her slowly as he slid into her and she slipped out of the cruel denial she'd been floundering in for weeks. He wasn't in love with her - no, there was _no_ way _that_ was possible. Yet there was something to be said about the way he swayed back and forth above her - the way he was all but making love to her. Emma fingernails trailed up and down his back as he fell into a steady, deliberate pattern. She moaned softly into his mouth as his tongue massaged hers in the most sensual way. He broke away for a moment to bite at her shoulder, continuing the act until his hot, unstable breath fell upon her ear.

"You feel so good, Emma.'

She barely heard his gasping voice as his every movement seemed to magnify her pleasure. She let the moment swallow her whole as he moved back a bit to stare into her eyes. It was intimate in a way that Emma was very uncertain about, but as his actions progressed, she couldn't bring herself to mind the affection in his eyes. She wanted him closer though - and she showed him by tugging him tighter against her by his shoulder blades.

" _Emma_."

"Kiss me, Killian."

She didn't have to ask twice. His lips seared into hers as the pressure built for both of them. Within seconds of his tongue sweeping across hers, release spread throughout her body and she moaned relentlessly into his mouth. He stilled shortly after a final push, biting his lower lip and exhaling a shaky breath. His forehead dropped to hers as he tried fiercely to regain his composure and his sharp wit.

Speechless Killian Jones the sequel. Emma couldn't help but laugh inwardly at her small success.

After a few deep breaths, he turned and fell back against the sheets. They both relaxed a moment, trying to absorb what had just happened. Finally, he rolled toward her, the development of some new emotion in his gaze.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself."

He laughed at her, pulling her into his arms and she took in his scent - sex, the sea, and something unbelievably enticing. He placed a soft kiss against her hair and she tried not to think about what would come next. The talk - the one she knew they needed to have. She figured she should just beat him to the punch.

"Killian, I-"

"Don't."

She pulled back to look at his satisfied face, one that was elated and dreamy. She raised an eyebrow at his demand.

"Don't ruin this, love."

She smiled softly, happy for the excuse to put off the inevitable and just sink into his embrace. The subtle glow of the moon reflected off the rippling water just outside the window of the cabin. As sleep overtook her, the last thing she felt was the consistent fingers of Killian stroking her hair and a new found happiness that she lived near the ocean.

###### 

Though they'd both taken a day off, they spent the next morning as any teacher would - educating someone about something. 

Killian taught her the basics of sailing as the boat cut through the glass water, telling her the names of various parts of the structure and teasing her when she used the incorrect one. She loved - wait no, she _liked_ this version of him. He was carefree in the most attractive way. He looked content - happier than she'd see him in the time since they'd been an annoying yet interesting presence in one another's lives. Emma wondered if it was the sea doing that do him or if there _might_ be a little more to the story.

Emma, as she seemed to do often lately, found herself between her knowledge of literature and an inquiring Killian Jones. He asked her why she wanted to be an English teacher and she shared the million reasons that it just fit. He asked her for her top three deserted island books - which for the record were _Walden, Tender is the Night_ , and one she said she'd get back to him on. 

It should have been awkward. It _should_ have been a time where one of them would be nagging at the other for a talk about feelings. The emotions were there, yes, even Emma would admit that. Yet as she watched the shop teacher turned sailor go about the day in his most natural element, she didn't feel there was a particularly strong need for words.

She didn't need words to know that she was falling for him.

###### 

Emma had roped herself into cleaning her living room - finally - that afternoon when Killian dropped her off. She had needed to do it for weeks now and she hoped that dusting shelves might provide her with some sense of distraction. 

They'd shared a wonderfully sweet kiss at the front door. It was the kind of kiss that you'd give someone who completely mesmerized you. He had - he _did_ do that to her. Killian had gone to pick up Roland from school while Robin was at some sort of after school training. He left with the promise of a phone call when he was done and Emma found herself eagerly awaiting just that. He must have been doing that same as her phone lit up the string of pictures he'd sent of Roland and himself playing at the park. She lit up as she laughed through each one - stupid, adorable Killian Jones.

She was in the middle of alphabetizing her paperbacks when a sing-song knocking pattern came from her front door. So much for a phone call. A huge grin took over her lips and she wandered to the closed entrance, tempted to let herself torment him just a bit. She mimicked the same knocking pattern back to him and she swore she heard him laugh. Her phone dinged a second later.

_Killian: I was always taught that it's polite to open when someone knocks._

 _Emma: It's a wonder you survived this far in life, Jones._

_Killian: Your door won't protect you, love ;)_

_Emma: I never said I wanted it to._

She swung the door open to his hooded eyes as he looked up front his phone and that wicked smirk that used to annoy her to no end. She sighed happily and he took that as an invitation in.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

He smiled stupidly at the way her greeting was similar to the one from the night before. He walked right in with purpose, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her with that I-really-missed-you-in-the-short-time-I've-been-gone type of passion. It wasn't until he reluctantly pulled away that she noticed the bag he'd dropped to the floor.

"What's that?"

"Oh, those," he said, still holding her as he addressed her pointing finger. "New t-shirts for the school fundraiser our boys are doing. I figured I should support a local basketball team, especially since I've heard their coach is such a charming guy."

"It sounds like you know him pretty well," she said, tapping him softly on the chest. "You got suckered into buying school apparel by your own players. Sounds like they might be picking up that alluring sense of self from you."

She slipped from his grasp, sauntering over to lift the bag and pull out its contents. There were two shirts in his size, gray and navy blue. She moved back to stand in front of him, holding up each one as if trying to discern which was best on him.

"I gotta go with the blue," she said decidedly. "I better hang onto this other one for you."

"But I haven't even worn it....so it's technically not mine yet," he replied, a flirty smile on his face. "I'll be happy to let you have it next time you spend the night."

"Is this you inviting me for a 'sleepover'?"

"No, love," he said, wandering to the couch and plopping down. "You never need an invitation to sleep in my bed, darling. I, on the other hand, would love one to stay in yours."

So _that's_ why he dropped by. Crafty bastard. She laughed to herself as she figured there were worse things in life.

"Ah, I _see_ ," she commented, taking the seat next to him with the shirts still in hand. "Killian, would you like to keep me company tonight?"

"Absolutely," he grinned, snatching the gray shirt and holding it against his chest. "You like the blue better, huh?"

She couldn't resist the perfection of the moment to cite the words of a classic novel.

"I don't know, Killian," she said, a suggestive shrug on her shoulders. "'You look so cool - you always look so cool. The man with the cool shirts.'"

"Nice, Swan," he laughed, his hand creeping up her thigh. "But tell me, do you plan on stealing all of your lines from Daisy Buchanan?"

"Oh please! Says the man who has obliterated nearly ever writer's work by vandalizing multiple coffee cups. I'm _hardly_ one to tease about being original."

"Hmmm, fair point," he said as he moved closer, forcing her backward into the couch cushions. "But _you_ , Emma, are a hard one to catch. I don't know as if I've ever had to be as charming as all that in my life - until I met you. Every time I picked up the morning to-go cup with the perfect quote in mind, I _wanted_ to be so frustrated that you were so difficult....but I couldn't. You, darling, were the source of my late night literature surfing on the internet and the reason I set my alarm twenty minutes early in order to make it to the diner before school - and it was _all_ completely worth it."

The honesty in his confession was beautiful and Emma's eyes filled with flattery as she moved her hands to the back of his head in order to drag him down for a simple kiss. He smiled against her lips, stroking her chin. She found herself suddenly very unaware of where the blurred line between this and real was located.

"So," he said, kissing her forehead as he laid down to snuggle between her and the couch. "Original enough for you?"

"I'd accept that without question of copyright," she said, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. "Did you forego the phone call in order to come over here and charm me, Jones?"

"Well, my biggest reason for showing up was that I _really_ wanted to see you," he explained, running a hand along her arm that prompted her to roll over to face him. "But now that I'm here, I do have something I need to ask you."

Emma arched a curious eyebrow at him. He looked playful yet equally optimistic. It was the sweetest expression she'd seen in quite some time.

"Oh?"

"Well, you see," he began, his fingers stroking her side. "Dave called and invited Robin and I up to Boston the night before the rehearsal-"

She was still exasperated by the fact that Killian was on a casual name basis with her cousin after one - yes, _one_ \- wedding event in Boston.

"-to go out with him and his friends to a basketball game and the pub or something. I guess like a bachelor party of sorts?"

"Knowing David, I'd say that's a pretty big overstatement," Emma commented. "Continue...."

"Well, we'd be staying overnight and that presents a little problem...."

Ah, _yes_. A little problem in the form of a curly haired, adorable _little_ boy.

"Emma?"

She looked at him in defeat, clearly aware of what he was hinting at, but still wanting to force him to ask. He pulled out the puppy dog eyes - the ones he'd used at the game where she'd already done what he was about to ask her to do. Damn Killian Jones and his manipulative glare.

"On a scale of one to competent," he began in a teasing voice. "Where would you rate yourself on your ability to care for a four year old?"

Yep. There it was. Well, _this_ should be very interesting.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm surprised I actually finished this today since I've been dead for the past few hours over "The Words" music video....hopefully you have all survived to see this update :) and I hope you enjoy it! Setting up a little bit of plot development at the end so stay tuned for that! All rights/characters belong to OUAT.

Bright brown eyes stared at Emma from across the kitchen table. He was swinging his little legs that weren't even close to touching the floor as he propped his adorable face up with his elbows. Emma tried to connect the points that had led her to this situation.

Sure, she'd spent plenty of time with Roland. The thing was it was almost always under spontaneous circumstances and she usually had someone else in close vicinity to back her up. She wasn't sure what had made Killian believe that she was qualified to care for the little boy while he and Robin went galvanting around New York City with her cousin and his crew of additional misfits. She wasn't scared of the situation. No, she just had zero ideas about what they could do together. Killian always kept him so entertained and for some reason that heightened the bar for Emma.

Of course, with Killian being Killian, he'd been overly sweet about the whole thing. He'd shown up in enough time to see her - to kiss her senseless several times - before Roland and Robin arrived. Naturally, he'd brought her some coffee, claiming she'd probably need it to keep up with the little boy. She'd smiled stupidly when he'd gone out to greet his friend and his slightly _smaller_ friend, noticing the black marker on the styrofoam.

_You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known - and even that is an understatement. - F. Scott Fitzgerald.... & Killian Jones_

Her heart melted at the sentiment and the fact that he was now claiming the stolen line as partially his own. She couldn't be bothered to taunt him about that one.

So here she was with Roland - each of them sitting on opposite sides of the room, trying to figure one another out. Roland seemed to be waiting for Emma to announce some sort of plan and she began scrambling to throw one together in her head.

"So Roland," she began, joining her hands together on the wood surface. "What do you and Killian do for fun?"

###### 

"Okay, what?"

Killian's best mate had been sporadically giving him smug, knowing glances since the minute they left Storybrooke. He seemed to be condescendingly implying something - and it wasn't _extremely_ difficult to figure out what it was.

"Oh nothing," Robin replied, tinkering with buttons on the dashboard. "Just sorting through what I just observed."

"Rob, if you have something to say, just say it."

"You....like her."

Killian knew this was coming. He figured that Robin had made this conclusion quite some time ago - probably when he saw the way they acted so casually on their last trip to Boston. Perhaps the fact that Killian had entrusted Roland's well being to her may have given something away as well. He was pretty picky when it came to letting Roland meet the women in his life, especially after his last break up....or breakdown. He figured it was all a matter of perspective on which word best described it.

"Is there a point to that rather odd observation, mate?"

"I just want to hear you admit it," Robin chided, smirking as he glanced out the window. "I don't see why you would think it could be any sort of convincing secret. You're obviously quite unmindful of the way you two look at each other."

Killian knew he should have suspected that if anyone would have seen the actual transition from fake to real - _very_ real - it would be his best friend. He didn't have anything to hide. He wasn't embarrassed - no, just surprised with himself. He would have never thought that he'd be involved in any sort of falling related to Emma Swan....well, unless she tripped him or something.

"Alright. I like her."

"Thank you," Robin said with a nod. "For the record, I'm glad to see it."

Robin had been there through everything with him when Milah left just as he'd done for him when his wife passed. Killian cringed as the letters of her name formed in his head. He tried to forget that she had a name - hopeful that it would make it easier to forget the way she'd destroyed him. Robin was there for all of it and though he wanted to rip Killian's broken heart right out of his chest to smack him with it on more than on occasion, they'd been lucky to have each other. Two resilient men they were. The idea that they both seemed to having some semblance of a second chance was quite baffling.

"Yeah, yeah," Killian said, waving a hand as if to end that conversation. "But what about you? Let's hear about this woman that's got you all tied up in knots."

Robin grinned as he sat back against the seat. Killian was glad to see the attention had now been directed away from him, but as he listened to his friend go on and on about his recently acquired interest, he realized that perhaps 'falling' when referencing how he felt about Emma was just too weak of a word.

###### 

Emma was beyond grateful that she'd finally landed on the park as a proper place for her afternoon with Roland - who knew that the slide would be such a big hit? She sat on one of the swings, rocking back and forth as she watched Roland exert energy she wished she could bottle. His curly hair bounced as he soared across the playground, climbing and crawling on just about everything. She laughed at his actions as she thought back to the pictures Killian had sent her. She wished he was there to see it.

"Tired, buddy?"

Roland had finally paused, skipping over to the swing next to Emma and crawling into the seat as he hooked his hands on the chains. He grinned from ear to ear as he twisted from side to side.

"I'm glad I got to come here with you," he stated in a happy tone. "Killian comes with me most of the time. I wonder if you could come with us next time too. Do you think so?"

"Well, maybe," Emma said, a smile on her lips. "I guess we'll have to ask him."

"He's more fun since we moved here. He was really sad in Ireland. I think he got better when we came to this town."

Emma mused at the simple processing skills of such a young kid. She found it interesting that he'd noticed such an adjustment in Killian's behavior once they'd all ended up here.

"Well sometimes change is good," Emma replied. "Maybe he needed a new place to help him remember how to be happy."

"Maybe," Roland said as he looked up, clearly pondering something. "But I think it's because you make him happy."

Emma stilled at the little boy's statement. It floored her that he'd observed the genuine emotions she and Killian both had, but even more so that he'd connected her presence to Killian's overall demeanor. She wondered if Roland had truly understood why his makeshift uncle had been so devastated - why it was so hard for him when he'd been abandoned. It hurt her heart to think of Killian as that man - hopeless and unable to love. That wasn't the guy she knew. That wasn't this fantastically ridiculous, horrible, wonderful man who challenged her and teased her on a day to day basis.

"He makes me happy too, Roland."

###### 

The game had been a real nailbiter and Killian found that though he was enjoying the new found company as well as the event itself, it was strange not having Emma there. He missed her - if that was even possible after only a few hours. He had never planned on spending time away from her while still involved in wedding festivities. He thought of her back in Storybrooke and wondered what she must be doing.

She'd been so adorably nervous when he and Robin had dropped Roland off that afternoon. He didn't know why - she was so great with him on the occasions they'd already spent together. Plus he knew Robin trusted her. He did as well. He _really_ trusted her - with even more than just Roland. He'd tried to assuage her anxiety with a tight embrace and a kiss on the forehead that he hoped reaffirmed the faith he had in her. She was going to be just fine. He hoped he could say the same for himself as he spent their first night apart since coming home from the cabin.

"Crazy game, right?"

Killian was sitting on the deck of the hotel suite Mary Margaret had booked for them. It was late, but he liked the solitude - alone with his recent thoughts and a glass of the cheap rum from the mini bar. Dave had brought along some friends from Boston - Will, Jefferson, and Victor. The lot of them had hit he hay shortly after the game and their drunken adventure to the pub after the final buzzer. Too many beers is what Killian assumed. Robin had spent a bit of time indulging in a spirit or two back at the suite before turning in, leaving Killian alone with the city skyline. Well, until Dave appeared, drink in hand as he took the adjacent chair.

"That it was," Killian said, interested in why he was acquiring the abrupt company. "Almost didn't think they'd make it after that call in early in the fourth."

"Yeah, you and me both," Dave laughed, taking a swig. "Made for an entertaining night though."

Killian chuckled in response. He had the strange notion that though this interaction seemed casual, David wasn't really there for the small talk.

"So you and Emma," David said, swiftly changing the subject. "You guys are....good together."

"Yeah," Killian replied, suddenly aware of the validity of 'you and Emma'. "It's great. Really great. She's....something."

He didn't know why he'd used such a vague word, but it seemed like any other phrase he'd pick wouldn't be fitting.

"She is," David nodded. "I'm glad she has you, ya know? She'll never believe it, but she deserves to be happy. It seems like you play quite a big role in that."

Killian felt the slight hitch of breath in his chest. He wondered if David had more insight into Emma's unhappy past than he'd actually suspected. Of course he did - he'd _been_ there. He'd probably seen it all first hand. Killian knew there was much more to be said, but he wasn't about to ask.

"Emma's been through a lot," David explained, twirling his glass in his hand. "She's also sacrificed a lot. I'm sure she's told you?"

Killian bit his lip - he knew the bare bones of things, but he'd always sensed that there was more to Emma Swan's past. He tried to remember that David was under the impression that Killian had been granted nearly a year to pry Emma's secrets from her when really, he'd had only a fraction of that time - and he'd only gained what she'd been willing to give him. "She's told me some," he said carefully. "But you probably know better than anyone that Emma can be somewhat....guarded."

He hoped that was the right word. David's sigh of a laugh told him it was.

"I love Emma, but she's stubborn as hell," David said, shaking his head. "She's got it in her head that after everything that's happened, she won't ever find happiness. I guess she supposes when you've been let down so many times, you just don't get that luxury anymore."

"Everything that's happened?"

The words slipped from Killian's mouth before he could stop himself. Dammit. _Don't pry_ , he scolded himself. David examined him and furrowed his eyebrows. 

"Sorry, mate, I know that's probably not your story to tell," he backtracked. "I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's fine," David said pensively. "Clearly she hasn't told you as much as she should. I don't know why she does this - why she insists on locking people out. You make her happy, Killian, and I don't want to be that guy, but if she's not going to let you in on the past then...."

Killian straightened up a bit, setting his glass down on a side table as he waited for David to complete that sentence. The groom-to-be shifted his eyes from the view of New York at night to Killian. He obviously had some things he wanted to share.

"Emma's parents weren't around much when we were kids. When they were, they didn't _act_ like they were. She learned pretty early on how to be invisible. They took a lot of pride in her brother, Neal, but with Emma....it was like she was just.... _there_. She never gave up though. Everything she ever did was to impress them....to get them to _see_ her."

Killian wondered if that explained part of the reason why Emma's time with her brother had been so limited as they got older. Maybe it was too hard for her to be around him.

"She's told you about the accident, right?"

Killian nodded, remembering how they'd been on their way to an event Emma had asked them be present for. _She blames herself,_ he realized.

"After that, the state tried to place her in foster care with her brother. Neal took off - ran away to god knows where. My mother wanted her to come live with us, but we didn't have much as far as legal rights go since in their will they'd specified no immediate family to take on guardianship. She was tossed around to quite a few different places," David gulped, the memory clearly not a pleasant one. "It took a few years, but we finally got things sorted out and she came to live with us."

David had _saved_ her. Killian's respect for the man's presence in Emma's life magnified ten fold.

"It took a long time for her to get to the point of being okay. She went to therapy and what not. She finally got her life back together. But then she met Neal - the other Neal."

Now _this_ was something new. Killian hadn't heard anything about this part of the unraveled past of Emma Swan. He had always assumed there was something, but more likely _someone_ who'd hurt her - maybe in the similar way to how he'd been burned.

"Neal was a charmer - a guy who swooped in on the tail end of her senior year when he returned from college for the summer. I think she wanted so badly to just know what it would be like to be loved and though she had that from family, this promised to be different. He filled her head with a million promises and plans all summer only to get a better offer to some no name school in Florida. She said she'd follow him, rearranged her plans after graduating, and even took out a loan to pay for moving expenses - but he didn't want her to go with him. He told her she didn't fit in with this new life he wanted - although I'm sure he said it in a few more words than that. She pleaded with him to no avail and he left.....the morning of her eighteenth birthday. Another person who abandoned her - at least that how she saw it."

Killian hoped his face didn't look as shocked as he felt. David had just smashed the surface wide open on everything Emma had tried so hard to bury and conceal from everyone. Of course she'd had a her heart broken. Of course she'd been so completely powerless to stop it. Of _course_ that was part of what intrigued him about her. She was like _him_. She was beautifully broken.

"After everything, when she finally did leave town, she left it all to me. She had me help sell her parents' cars and rid their home of nearly any and all belongings. We were going to sell the house, but when the life insurance paid it all off, she gave my mom the keys and transferred every owner document on the books to us. I paid Neal out on the place a few years back - Mary Margaret and I live there now."

Killian wondered if that meant he'd have a chance to see it - the life before the fractured past. David sighed as he seemed to run through everything he'd just divulged.

"Killian," David began, tapping the glass softly on his knee. "Can I ask you something?"

"Uh, yeah," he said with surprise. "Go for it, mate."

Killian had no clue where this was headed. He tried to prepare for the question that could come at him from any direction and as he did so, that familiar eyebrow arched up in curiosity.

"It's just....it's Emma," David said, his voice cautious. "I just have to ask how serious you are about this - about her."

Killian froze. This was not an inquiry he ever anticipated. Roughly a month ago he'd been only interested in sailing, alcohol fueled desolation, and the thrill of the chase whenever he actually had the pleasure of flirtatiously tormenting Emma Swan. He never planned on the proposition or the coffee cup quotes. He never anticipated the late night confessions or the chance to watch her soak up the sea from the bow of the boat. He had never in his wildest dreams imagined giving way to the feelings he'd tried so desperately to ignore when he finally fell into the sheets with her. He didn't expect _this_.

"Serious as a heart attack, Dave."

###### 

" _That_ ship isn't the Jolly Roger! Killian's boat is!"

Roland was wrapped up in the movie on the screen, vocally disputing the validity of Captain Hook's vessel. Emma hadn't thought of the possibly hilarity that might ensue when she'd chosen Peter Pan, but now, the whole thing was just rich with irony. Killian had told her they could stay at his house, saying that Roland was used to being there and it would be much less of an inconvenience for her. She didn't fight him - the idea of spending the night in Killian's bed surrounded by his familiar scent was too intoxicating to pass up. His DVD collection, however, was insanely limited.

"Well sometimes there can be more than one thing with the same name," Emma said through her silly laughter. "Maybe he picked that name from this movie. Maybe he wants to be like Captain Hook."

"Killian isn't a pirate, Emma! He's a teacher."

"I know, I know," she continued, musing at the little boy's adorable outburst. "But it's just a movie - you'll have to tell Killian all about how Hook stole his boat's name."

"Oh, I _will_."

His eyes fixed back on the TV as Emma watched him make a mental note to do just that. Oh, Killian Jones and his _thieving_ ways.

By the time the credits rolled, Roland was snuggled into Emma's side in a deep slumber. She grinned at her success in playing nanny for day. She couldn't just let him sleep on the couch, but he looked so peaceful that she didn't have the heart to wake him. Tucking two arms under his tiny frame, she lifted him and carried him toward the stairs that led up to one of the guest rooms. She melted into a puddle of pride when he nuzzled into her, his shallow breathing the picture of comfort.

Once she'd tucked him in, leaving the door cracked in case he needed something, she ventured back to the kitchen. Killian had asked her if she could check for the mail - said he was expecting something - and the variety of envelopes and ads now sat on the counter. Feeling slightly curious, Emma slid onto a barstool and told herself that it was none of her business as she skimmed the addresses of senders. Capitol One. Some utility bill. A copy of his newest National Geographic. _Nerd_ , she thought with a smirk. The largest envelope was a paper size manila one that supported the others at the bottom of the stack. It was somewhat thick and it looked quite official with URGENT stamped on a slant. _Tampering with the mail is a federal offense_ , she reminded herself. Of course she wasn't going to _open_ it, but she did peek at the front to see if she could figure out why it was so important.

**ATTN: Mr. Killian Jones  
Jones Brothers Sailing Inc.**

Emma wondered why Killian would be getting mail regarding the business he'd had years ago with his brother. _A bit cryptic_ , she thought. But who was it from?

**Robert R. Gold, ESQ.  
Attorney at Law**

Emma arched an eyebrow at the mysterious envelope. She didn't know Killian still had any business with boats back in Ireland, but this mail seemed to state otherwise. What was _he_ up to? Emma's phone rang, breaking her out of her deliberating trance. She smiled sweetly when she saw his name on the screen.

"Aren't you supposed to be passed out drunk somewhere or starring in an internet viral video by now?"

"Well, it's great to hear your voice too, love."

Emma's skin tingled at the thick texture of his accent. He hadn't actually _called_ her many times - well at least not often. It was a change she quite liked in that moment.

"How was the game?"

"It was great - overtime and everything. Jealous you missed it?"

 _I don't care about missing the game but I'm not real fond of missing you,_ she thought.

"Nah. I spent a wonderful afternoon at the park with your pretend nephew and then watched him fall asleep to the tune of Neverland."

"You guys watched Peter Pan? Ha! How did that go over?"

"Let's just say you've got some explaining to do in terms of the Jolly Roger. The poor kid feels a bit deceived."

"Oh wow," Killian breathed. "I guess I should have covered my bases with that one."

"Yeah, you really should think those things through a little better."

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Emma felt curious as to what caused it. It was 11:43 - he was probably in bed, all barefoot and sweatpants by now. 

"Emma?"

"Yeah? I'm still here."

"I-I....miss you."

She bit her lip at his admission. It was the kind of sweet thing she didn't know she wanted to hear. 

"Likewise, Jones."

Their conversation continued into the very early hours of morning - Emma never spent that much time on the phone, but she loved hearing him talk. She'd nestled into his down comforter after a big yawn forced him to make her say goodbye. In the joy she'd felt during his call, she had spaced the envelope. It was still on the counter downstairs and it would surely raise a question later, but for now, she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of Killian's pillowcases. Her phone chimed at a lowered volume just after she'd turned the light off.

_Killian: 'I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside of me there will always be the person I am tonight.'_

_Emma: I'm only allowing you to use Fitzgerald because he's your favorite....and because that was incredibly sweet. I'm glad to see you aren't a collector of missed opportunities, Jones._

_Killian: I have my reasons for liking his writing - the terrible romantic and all. I'm glad it leads you to think I'm sweet though :) mission accomplished._

_Emma: Why do I get the idea that you will still continue to put forth effort on said mission?_

_Killian: Because I take great pleasure in making you smile, love. No intention to stop that whatsoever_

_Emma: Have I mentioned how cold this bed is without you?_

_Killian: Hmmm. No, but I can recall that it used to be quite chilly before you were there. Save me a spot?_

_Emma: Shouldn't I be asking you to save me one when you check into the hotel in Boston?_

_Killian: I was hoping to take you up on a warm bed before then._

Emma's fingers paused at this. She was driving up to Boston tomorrow with Roland. He was going to meet them with Robin in the hotel lobby. She wondered if he was just tired - his lack of sense seemed to imply that.

A moment later, she heard the garage door open. She jumped at the unexpected and abrupt sound. First she was terrified....then curious....then strangely excited. She pulled the blanket on the edge of the bed off and wrapped herself in it before starting toward the stairs. She reached second step from the bottom just in time to see him walk in - Nike shorts, gray sweater, and those bookworm glasses. He tossed his keys into the bowl by the door before he peered up to notice her. The first look he gave her told her that she was _supposed_ to be asleep, but eventually, their matching smiles met as he moved toward her with purpose.

"Hey you," he said, drawing an arm around her waist to lift her against him. "If you're down _here_ , who is keeping the bed warm?"

"I had high hopes that you'd help," she said just before he leaned in to kiss her softly. "Although I didn't know you'd be free to assist me with it tonight. Killian, what are you doing here?"

"I told you," he said, setting her down so she could fall into his blue gaze. "I missed you."

"But Robin...."

"-is with David. I told him we'd bring Roland up with us tomorrow."

He'd come all the way back to Storybrooke at one in the morning to see her - because he _missed_ her. Emma's mind reeled at the sincerity of his words and his insane actions.

"I can't believe you-"

He cut her off with a powerful kiss, one that told her he _had_ really needed to see her. She was amazed with the way he was able to tug at her heart so easily. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging her fingers against the back of his head as she deepened the kiss. He smirked against her lips when he finally pulled back, their foreheads softly leaning together. 

"You shouldn't text and drive."

"Perhaps I was already here."

"Cunning, Jones," she laughed against his lips. "But that's a little creepy to sit at your own house and text me from the driveway." 

"It was all part of the surprise - the one that you're currently tarnishing by calling it 'creepy'. Now, love," Killian whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her nose. "Can we see about warming up that bed?"

"Perhaps," she grinned flirtatiously. "I think I've got a few ideas on how that could be accomplished."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, kind of a short chapter - mostly because I just needed to muse over that music video and it seemed like an opportune way to add that in :) but, as most of you have already suspected, a bit of rough water ahead.....nobody throw anything! I promise the next update will be posted ASAP :) in the mean time, enjoy - and per usual, all rights/characters belong to OUAT.

The air was fresh and quite floral which was obviously to be expected. Emma stood on the hardwood floor of the old colonial house turned flower shop as her eyes grazed across the colorful collection of blossoms. Enveloped in the surrounding green beauty, she was able to breathe easy and think a bit more clearly. She observed each flower's pattern, hue, and scent with the softest of smiles. Spring had been kind to the gardens in Boston - well so far anyway.

The old fashioned building was rustic with bare wood pallets built to hold whatever was growing in Boston at the time. The chipped paint on the whitewashed exterior and the little bell above the entrance were comforting things - things that reminded her of home. A variety of bottles and glass jars and containers lined the back wall along with all the fixings for planting, supporting, and growing beautiful somethings.

Tulips. Daffodils. Magnolias. Azaleas. There was even a bit of lilac - but that stuff always made Emma sneeze. When David had been searching for someone to assist in picking up the floral arrangements so that he could exert his energy toward calming his fiancé and her irrationally productive mind, Emma had quickly volunteered herself and Killian. They hadn't spent much time alone lately - okay, yes they had. Emma just wanted more. Sue her.

"Changing professions, love?"

Killian had reappeared in the open air floor plan that was full of daylight streaming in through frosted glass windows and high wooden beams that reminded Emma of the old greenhouse her grandfather once had. His affectionate eyes told her he was admiring the way she seemed to be admiring the flowers. He looked his typical handsome self despite carting multiple crates of blooming plants to the truck, his cheeks flushed and his breath heavy. The dark blue henley shirt he'd pulled on that day made every one of his defined features pop and it was difficult to deny the attraction to his dark, tousled hair and the gentle blue of his gaze - not that she was still at the point of denying any attraction to him at all. He dropped a wooden box that she'd assumed was an extra to the ground before strolling casually to the space on the opposite side of the pallet of plants Emma was currently fawning over.

"Worried I might leave you to the school board wolves to become a botanist, Jones?"

"I'd like to believe that you don't have plans to leave me at all," he said, raising his signature eyebrow in a hopeful yet seductive manner. "But I suppose that's entirely up to you, Emma."

Emma grinned slowly as she let out a simple sigh, lowering her eyes back to the white blossoms in front of her. He'd been doing that a lot lately - using her first name instead of her last or some other overly sweet sentiment. Emma _this_ and Emma _that_. It made her heartbeat erratic in a way she wasn't sure how to interpret.

She didn't address his comment. She wasn't sure what to say. His words were honest - they always were now - in a way that terrified Emma but also made her splendidly happy. Yeah, he'd been doing that a lot recently too.

It was strange - the good kind of strange - the way he was so much more forward with her now. No hinted meanings. No - okay, well _some_ innuendos. The communication was easier now. They didn't have to battle with words quite so much anymore. His expressions and protective, loving gestures said much more than his smart mouth could.

"Here," he said, handing her a cup of coffee she was just now noticing. "Since I slacked off this morning."

Emma took it with pursed lips, trying to anticipate what daily wisdom he had for her today.

_When I first met her, I knew in a moment I would spend the next few days rearranging my mind so there would be room for her to stay. -F.S. Fitzgerald_

Emma let a small sigh of a laugh escape her lips as she watched Killian settle their venture with the elderly man who seemed to thrive on running his simple business. He peeked up at her when he heard her barely audible yet amused reaction. That knowing smirk of his had always been so hard for Emma to handle. Where was the aggravating, infernal Killian Jones she'd had the parking lot encounter with and who was this sweet, attractive, quite possibly-yet-obviously romantic man she was staring at now? He moved back to her side, nudging her playfully.

"Drop it like F. Scott huh, Jones?"

He laughed that wonderful, hearty laugh that proved to Emma how happy he was to be there with her - to actually just be _with_ her. He took her hand, linking their fingers as he kissed her knuckles. She loved that wild grin on his face.

"Precisely, love."

###### 

She shouldn't do it. It was none of her business. 

Emma sat on the bed with the envelope on her lap. She hadn't been snooping - _no_. She'd been on the phone with him. She'd been _trying_ to be helpful and, well, it just all....unfolded from there.

He'd had to leave her behind at the hotel for an hour or so - David had of course found a way to work all of his bachelor party buddies into the wedding somehow which meant tuxedos. Yes, tuxedos for _everyone_. It wasn't like she wouldn't be distracted enough already during the nuptials, but _now_ he'd have a bow tie. God _dammit_.

"I won't be gone too long," Killian had said as he attempted to cheer those pouting lips off her face. " _Stop_ that...."

"Oh _fine_ , I know," Emma conceded. "I can always go see if Mary Margaret needs any help setting things up for the rehearsal."

She couldn't believe that they'd almost made it - the rehearsal tonight and then the wedding on Sunday in the late afternoon. They'd had to shift a few things around as a storm loomed overhead with a possibility of rain which would cause certainty of a royal freak out where David's fiance was concerned. It would leave them with a whole extra day - Emma and Killian, free to roam the streets of Boston in a lovely chapter two version of their previous trip. She smiled to herself at the thought. That seemed like a lifetime ago - back when she was still counting the days until this wedding ended. Now, she wasn't really sure what the end of the festivities would mean for her and Killian.

He had left at the ding of David's text message letting him know the car was downstairs. Of course he hadn't gone with any less than an unbelievably fierce kiss - the kind that Emma was really enjoying getting used to. He'd barely walked out the door when she found herself swiping through her phone for Mary Margaret's number. It was a strange yet pleasant interruption when Killian's goofy picture lit up the screen of her phone. He'd literally _just_ left. He couldn't have gotten into _too_ much trouble between the hotel room and the entrance to the lobby.

"Hey, love?"

"Oh _Killian_ , I miss you too, but suit shopping with David and his rag tag band of merry men will _not_ kill you. I promise."

"While I appreciate you ensuring my life, darling," he laughed. "I'm calling because I need a favor - but yes, if you must know, I _do_ miss you. Terribly."

"What can I do for you, Jones?"

"Hmmm," he said, a seductive lull to his voice as Emma immediately regretted her _far_ too open ended question. "I apparently need my dress socks - something bloody ridiculous about having the socks you plan to wear with the dress shoes so they can do something with the pants.... _hell_ , I don't know. I just need them. Can I perhaps swindle you into bringing them down to the lobby for me? They don't trust me to come back up to the room while....you're in there."

His voice had such a hint of humor in it on that last part. Emma smiled to herself. _Bested again_ , she thought. Although, this time, it wasn't such a horrible thing.

"Be right down."

It wasn't until she began riffling through his bag that she realized she'd neglected to ask which pocket or compartment or black hole she'd find them in. His suitcase was seriously a disaster. She'd finally located them - argyle blue and gray. As Emma tugged them from the bag, she pulled a bit too hard, toppling the bag out onto the carpet. She rolled her eyes at her own clumsiness and lifted the suitcase back onto the chair it had originally been sitting on. As she flipped it back over, a manila envelope - _the_ envelope - expelled its contents onto the floor. Papers were everywhere. _Ugh_ , dammit. She went to pick them up, embarrassed that she'd caused this to happen in the first place, when her eyes began to catch bits and pieces of the very elaborate collection of documents.

**This legal agreement is made and entered into on April 5th-**

**Seller represents and warrants that said Business has good and marketable title-**

**Buyer will accept the purchase price settled in accordance with the agreement-**

Price? Agreement? What the hell was all of this? Emma furrowed her brow as she tried further to limit her view of Killian's personal mail.

**The Buyer proposes that the Seller be under two year contract for business organization and standing-**

**Any and all adjustments or amendments to purchase proposed to be made before final date as specified-**

**The time and place of closing will be April 28th at its principal office of business-**

**Total consideration at purchase will be.... ******

Emma dropped the stack of papers and the containing envelope on the floor, strewing them about again. That number - those numbers stared back at her with almost unreal possibility. There was absolutely no way in _hell_ that figure was right. The chime of her phone ripped her from her encounter with the largest amount of money she'd ever seen offered on paper.

_Killian: David is giving me the lecture about putting a stop to your tendency to run late before things go any further with us. Please hurry :)_

Emma tried her best to pick her chin up off the floor and used a shaky hand to grip the pair of dress socks. An intrusive dollar sign and a large question mark alternated simultaneously in her head as she rode the elevator down. He stood at the rotating doors of the hotel, his hands stuffed adorably into his pockets. Emma tried to be stoic, but as she watched his smirk - the one she had fallen so head over six inch heels for - she wondered what he was hiding.

"Thank you, love," Killian said sweetly, taking the socks and kissing her forehead as he pulled her in for a quick hug. "Those guys are insane. Do I _really_ have to go?"

"Yes, you should-you do," she said, smiling awkwardly. "It-it won't be that big of a deal."

"Hey," he said, raising an eyebrow and taking her hand. "You okay?"

He knew something was up. _Damn him_ for always seeing right through her.

"Yeah, great," she said, stretching up to kiss his lips gently before turning to go. "Just....hurry up - so you can get back here."

He gave a confused expression and a half smile, turning to glance at her once more as he headed back outside. She _hated_ this. She didn't want to lie to him or invade his privacy. It was seriously not even the slightest bit of her business - but she had to know.

###### 

Carefully closing the door to their hotel room, Emma turned to stare at the scattered papers all over the floor. What a mess - but she wasn't sure _how_ big the mess actually was. She knew only reading through what this was would help her figure that out. She made quick work of numerically ordering them again - twelve pages of mystery to be exact. She took a deep breath before looking at the stack now gathered neatly on her lap.

**Dear Mr. Killian Jones,**

**Neverland Maritime Incorporated is pleased to set forth its interest and intentions to acquire all business assets, good will, and properties of Jones Brothers Sailing Incorporated. This letter of intent with subject to offer sets forth the terms and conditions the Offeror would adhere to in the acquisition of the proposed business for purchase regarding finances and liabilities. This letter is nonbinding and does not impose any legal obligation on either party-**

Emma frowned at the legal jargon on the page, realization creeping up on her. Did Killian still own the sailing company back in Ireland? Her eyes scanned the rest of the text which all but verified that he did. Yet it didn't appear like it would be that way for long - this letter was from someone wanting to buy his company.....for a completely _insane_ amount of money. Emma had absolutely no clue that there was that kind of money floating on water unless you were a pirate pilfering treasure.

Her mind thought back to something she'd seen the first time she'd attempted to gather the mess - something about a two year contract - and she flipped through the pages in search of it. When she found those words, she read until she hit the bottom of the page. Yes, this company wanted to buy Killian out. Yes, they were proposing a price that was off the _wall_. But Emma's eyes watered a bit as she realized what this section of the paperwork meant. They wanted him to come back to work for them on a two year lease to make sure things stayed afloat - pun not intended. He would go back to work for them.... _in_ Ireland. He was leaving her.

She slowly slid the stack of papers back into the manila envelope, fastening the brass clip at the top. In all the ways she expected this to end after he'd fulfilled his "favor" to her, she never anticipated the tears that were currently filling her eyes and the desperate desire for him to stay. What the hell was she supposed to do now?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh this story is consuming my life! :] I regret nothing haha. Thank you so, so much for being such wonderful readers - I've been so horrible about replying to reviews in my obsession with finishing this fic, but I love and appreciate each one! Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts. Sorry for leaving you with the angsty ending on that last one. Hopefully this will brighten things up just a little bit - I even added a bit of Killian's perspective :] as always, all rights and characters belong to OUAT.

Something was wrong. Killian knew it that night at the rehearsal dinner and even more so as he followed a rather distant Emma to the elevator once back at the hotel. Honestly, he'd seen some kind of an issue in her eyes when she had met him for the little sock switch earlier. But now, the abrupt raise of the floor beneath them accompanied by the quiet, subtly guarded demeanor she'd had all evening told him that she was definitely bothered with something - or _someone_. He sure hoped he wasn't that someone as he scanned his brain for earlier actions. It didn't happen often, but Killian Jones had come up empty in regards to insight.

She had marched in ahead of him, grabbing a change of clothes and heading straight for the bathroom. The door slammed a bit too loud behind her. Oh _hell_. He flung himself backward onto the mattress, dragging his hands down his face in a very frustrated movement. Killian stared at the ceiling, confused and concerned in a most aggravated way. He didn't like to prod or question her - backing Emma into a corner was an act that he knew would produce no desirable result. He wasn't sure where to go or what to do or....god, anything for that matter.

Eventually, Killian jerked back up, feet stationed on the carpet as he sat on the edge of the bed with a new found desire to slam his head against a brick wall. It was then that he saw it - a lone piece of paper peeking out from under the chair in the corner. He walked carefully and curiously to pick it up, immediately recognizing the unmistakable letterhead of the rival company he and Liam had once loathed. Without warning, Emma reappeared - her expression shifting to mortified when she noticed the familiar document in his hand.

"Emma," he said cautiously, glancing at her. "Uh, when-why....did...."

God, could he sound any more _guilty?_

"I was....I was just trying to get your socks," she defended, her voice detached and protective. "I didn't mean to, but the envelope was open and they-the papers just...."

She drifted off, biting her lip as he watched some internal battle begin. His mind instantly ran through the scenario - her finding the urgently marked enveloped, what the offer said....the proposal of the two year contract. Oh god - she thought he was going to _leave_ her. No, no, _no_. Killian moved to stand, striding toward her as she shifted backward instinctively. He froze, her reaction causing his heart to clench. In his ideal world, he'd figured they were past that little maneuver.

"Were you going to tell me?"

Oh hell. How had he let this happen? Of course he was going to tell her. That's why he had brought the damn thing along. He was going to tell her everything. _Everything_.

"Emma, yes, I-I wanted-"

"Didn't you think the fact that you're moving back to Ireland was something I _might_ want to know?

Yes, yes he did think so. But he wasn't. He just needed to explain. He needed her to know _why_.

"Emma, love, I-"

"No, _don't_....don't call me love," she interrupted, her voice rising and filling with emotion as she stormed across the room all while looking away. "You are _leaving_ and you didn't even bother to tell-"

"Emma, _stop_. Just please listen. I need to-"

"You don't _need_ to do anything! You don't owe me anything, Killian. It doesn't matter-"

"Yes it does! It matters to me-"

"Well it shouldn't! It's not like this is even a big deal anyway. You and me - it's...."

Killian realized that they'd both been yelling, each trying to maintain their dignity while keeping the other in a reasonable frame of mind. She turned slowly back to face him and he watched her scramble quickly, beginning to build a huge wall between them. When her eyes finally leveled with his, he saw only pain - an expression of sadness and hurtful distrust. He knew he was breaking her.

"It's not real, Killian."

He felt his heart skip a few beats as his stomach hit the floor. Perhaps it _hadn't_ been real, but it _was_ now - and he wasn't about to let her off that easy.

"The hell it isn't, Emma," he said, his own voice's volume magnifying. "You and I both know that's a sorry excuse for a lie-"

"Then why couldn't you tell me?!"

"I was going to!"

"When? After the wedding? The night before you left? On the inside of some stupid book?! When?!"

"Emma, I'd planned on telling you this weekend. Mostly because I wanted you to know that I'm not going to go - I'm not going to leave because I love-"

" _No_."

"Emma, please. Just let me-"

"Killian, just....no."

Her eyes grew wide as she cut him off, the last word of his almost confession hanging heavy in the air between them. He knew the pleading look in his eyes was desperate. He didn't care. She looked frantic - like she couldn't find air to fill her lungs. She was going to run. He had to stop her.

"Emma, wait-"

She backed right into the door, her hand reaching to the side to grip the handle as her eyes went wild with - was that fear? _No_. He _had_ to stop her.

"Killian, I....no, I just....I need to go."

"Emma, _please_ don't-"

"I just....please - I just need....I need a minute."

She didn't look at him as she pulled on the knob and then vanished from sight. As the door clicked behind her, Killian found his feet adhered to the floor and his heart relocated to his throat. His eyes burned as he wondered how he'd let this happen.

As he sat hopelessly on the edge of the bed, watching the bedside clock move from 9:46 to 11:57, he realized that she clearly needed more than just a minute.

###### 

Emma had no idea how long she'd spent wandering the streets of downtown Boston, but when she unlocked the door to the hotel room, he was gone - with his suitcase and without any sweet, stolen quote from a book. The indent in the bed told her he hadn't been missing long and also that he'd probably waited quite some time, hoping she'd come back. She wanted to be angry at him, but it was her own fault. Emma Swan and the fear of being loved - it was the song that never ended.

Of course he had places he could go - most likely to Robin's room. Emma hated how empty the space felt and she found herself needing to know that he'd ended up somewhere - safe. After all, he'd always done that for her. She pulled her phone out to text - who? Killian? No. Robin? He probably wouldn't want to talk to her. She clicked a few keys, finding Regina's name. Chances were good that she was with Robin.

_Emma: Have you guys seen Killian by chance?_

It didn't take long for a reply, the alert sound piercing the silence around her.

_Regina: He was here. Just left about 20 minutes ago. You guys had words I take it?_

No, they'd actually had quite a _lack_ of words.

_Emma: Sort of. Do you know where he was going?_

_Regina: He didn't say, but he didn't look good. Should we be worried?_

_Emma: No, don't worry - it's all good. It will be okay._

Yet she fell into a fitful and haunted sleep that night, she wasn't really sure that it would be.

###### 

Killian immediately found his lack of affection for the hotel a few blocks away to be nearly equivalent to the dislike he had for sleeping without Emma. He'd tossed and turned for hours, finally giving up around four in the morning. Resigning to forget about any possibility of sleep, he allowed his thoughts to fill with Emma.

He'd been so _stupid_. He should have told her about this long ago, but he'd been looking into selling the company since before she even went to the seminar in New York. In fact, he had been hunting a buyer far longer than he wanted to and when those Neverland fools approached him, he didn't say no - even though Liam would probably turn over in his grave if he knew. It had been weeks since they'd been offering and he'd been counter offering all while cursing the bloody idiots who seemed hell bent on ripping him off. When they'd finally reached a still too low but reluctantly reasonable price, they'd blindsided him with some damn inclusion about working back for them to make sure they maintained their clients. He'd closed the book on that asinine venture almost immediately. He had never before tried to sell the company instead opting to keep it - well mostly the name, the assets, and the list of highly elite clients - because he thought perhaps he'd go back and run it one day. From the _instant_ Emma kissed him back - the moment he woke up to her soft breathing the next morning, he realized he wasn't going _anywhere_....because he didn't _want_ to. He drafted and sent the rejection letter that following morning. He was going to tell her - show her the letter in some ridiculously cheesy declaration of love. He was going to tell her he was choosing to _stay_.

So much for standing on ceremony.

Killian flat on his back, staring into the abyss from the lumpy mess of a mattress when a ding of a text message sought his attention.

_David: Getting coffee with the guys at 8. You in?_

Killian smiled something ironic yet terribly sad. Coffee was _their_ thing - always had been. It was all the more reason why the distraction was so necessary.

_Killian: For sure. See you in a bit, mate._

He showered and dressed quickly and as he headed out the door, he fought the accumulation of clever words in his mind and the hand that was itching for a black Sharpie.

###### 

Emma sat on a familiar bench at the park David used to drag her to when they were kids. She observed the blur of a curly haired boy zigzagging in and out of the playground with a careless smile. She'd ended up with a Roland filled afternoon - she had offered in an attempt to make foreseeable amends with Robin and also to hopefully distract herself in the process. She supposed that Robin and Regina would appreciate the down time and maybe the company of a sweet, simple mind would be helpful in its own way.

"Why isn't Killian here?"

Roland's question was basically the same one she had been asking herself all day. She pressed her lips together as she pondered what to say.

"He, uh, he had something come up - just a problem he had to go figure out how to take care of it."

 _Okay, not a total lie,_ she thought,

"Oh," Roland said with understanding as he kicked at the wood chips on the ground. "Is he coming back?"

"I-I'm not sure."

"I bet he will," Roland said as he scaled the steps to a twisty slide, "I think he will come back if you're still here."

Their little exchange was interrupted by an excited Henry - he had truly taken to Roland in the sweetest way - and a very conspicuous David. Henry bounded toward the younger boy, a beat up basketball that probably belonged to her cousin in his hands. David slid onto the empty space next to Emma as they silently watched the boys, each of them smiling sporadically. Emma knew what was coming - the impending lecture creating quite the tension in an otherwise cheerful scene.

"Emma, what are you doing?"

"That's a pretty broad question, Dave. Do you mean now or in general?"

"You know exactly what I mean," David said, adjusting his position to face her. "Emma, I love you, but you've gotten _so_ good at shutting people out that I don't even think you realize you're doing it anymore."

Of course he knew. She wondered silently if or perhaps when he'd heard from Killian.

"David, you don't get it-"

"You're right, Emma," he said, clearly frustrated. "I guess I _don't_ get it. I don't think I ever have. I can't bring myself to understand _why_ you continually do this to yourself - especially when you've got a guy like that who would probably go to the end of the world or time for you."

"David, it wasn't even real."

The words were out of her mouth before she even had time to think about what she was saying. David raised a theatrical eyebrow - one that made her miss Killian terribly. There was no way to backpedal now.

"Killian and me - this _thing_....our relationship," Emma began, trying to formulate a sensible explanation. "It's not real. He's a....friend. I asked him to come to all of these wedding events with me."

"Why would you do something like that?"

"Honestly, David, to avoid uncomfortable conversations much like this one. You have it....together. You always have. I'm always a work in progress, trying to get a handle on life and people and emotions. Happy little endings don't happen for people like me. What you and Mary Margaret have is good. It's real."

David sighed incredulously. He shook his head and dropped his elbows to his knees as he peered into the distance.

"So, Emma," he said, somewhat introspectively. "You've been playing pretend with this guy for however long. You've attended three separate overnight family events where you've spent plenty of times within view of others, putting on this oh so elaborate "ruse". You don't find it strange that nobody has ever even _questioned_ it?"

Emma paused at his inquiry. She knew they were putting on a pretty convincing show and she'd been so happy that it looked believable - so much so that she'd totally missed the part where it was no longer _any_ type of act at _all_.

"I hate to break it to ya, Em," David said as he stood up to go join the boys. "If what you've been doing is truly fake then don't sign your teaching contract for next year because you are one hell of an actress."

###### 

The suit stared at Killian from the hanger on the door. He paced the length of the hotel room - the one he would be thrilled to leave as its lack of modernity and Emma were really starting to wear on him. 

He didn't _have_ to stay there. He honestly didn't even have to stay in Boston. He'd driven all the way back to Storybrooke the day before to switch the truck for his BMW. He tried to forget the method to his madness, reminding himself to focus on the problem at hand.

He wasn't obligated to go. He didn't even know if they - well, if _she_ would want him there. Despite everything - the argument, the misunderstood deceit, the denial - he _missed_ her. This whole thing had stemmed from such an innocent request and now, alone in his hotel room, Killian tried to imagine why he ever thought he'd avoid falling for her. He looked at the pile of documents on the round table in the corner of the room. One side held the rejection letter as well as the fax showing it was received. Off to the side, there was an additional copy - the one he was going to show her - as well as the proposal and list of assets. Looming at the top of everything was a receipt for a flight confirmation accompanied by his weathered passport.

He looked at the fabric that was supposed to somehow make a bow tie. It hung helplessly from the shirt's collar and Killian realized how difficult that one would be to navigate without Emma's help. He grinned softly as he remembered how transfixed he'd been as he watched the concentration that overtook her when she'd helped him with his tie at Jefferson's shop.

He pulled the custom made, black fabric tie from its resting place. The texture was smooth beneath his fingers. He didn't have to go to the wedding.

###### 

Emma wanted to rip out her hair - mostly because she actually _didn't_ want to rip out her hair for once. The day had started late for Emma who slept extremely little the night before. Every time she started to drift off, she saw his loving blue gaze. It was enough to cause insomnia laced with a bit of self pity. Surprisingly enough, her tangled mess of bedhead worked wonders when Ruby arrived to help with said hair situation. They were able to swipe it into a side fishtail braid that was loosely gathered and simply beautiful - if Emma did say so herself.

She was beyond grateful that she'd won the dress battle with Mary Margaret. She couldn't even fathom walking down the aisle before the bride in some godforsaken ruffled mess that had multiplied so that every other bridesmaid could wear it too. The bride had given them a bit of free reign, saying that they could wear what they wanted, but it had to be a pale shade of pink. It made sense for Mary Margaret to pick such a color - hopeful, happy, optimistic to no end. Emma didn't feel any of those emotions, but she decided to reawaken her acting skills because it wasn't _her_ day.

She hadn't heard from Killian despite the hundreds of text messages she'd drafted without sending and the phone calls she'd half way dialed before ever letting it ring. She didn't know what she would say. She knew she was wrong in every single way that she could have been. She'd spent the last two nights reminding herself of that as her hand ran across the empty space on the plush hotel bed. Yet despite everything - what she'd said to him, the way her heart broke at the contents of the envelope, the way he'd looked when she put a stop to his three word sentiment - she _missed_ him.

"Okay, Swan," Ruby said, gathering her things and smiling at Emma. "I'm going to head out. Victor's picking me up downstairs....but I could see if he'll wait a minute? I mean, if you want to ride with us?"

 _God_ , Emma hated the pity.

"No it's okay," she smiled at the thoughtful gesture. "I'll be fine. I'll see you there around three."

Ruby nodded with a simple grin before leaving. Emma smoothed her dress - one that hit just above the knees and covered one shoulder. It was lacy but not overly so and Emma coupled it with those recently discovered earrings that she'd been wearing ever since her first outing with Killian. The ironic thought that she was now going to the wedding alone when she'd spent so much time and effort making sure she didn't _have_ to do that had crossed her mind more than she cared to admit that day. It wasn't likely that she'd forget about that the entire night. She added her shoes, a simple clutch for the necessities, and her best support-the-happy-couple-even-though-I'm-miserable smile before heading out the door.

She watched the elevator light glow brightly, confirming that she's reached the lobby. She took a deep breath as she exited.

 _Dammit_ , she thought. She couldn't remember if she brought that stupid key card down with her. She began to rummage through the small compartments of her clutch, trying very hard not to lose anything. Her fingertips crossed it so she smiled softly and clicked it close. 

She had barely heard the fastening noise when he eyes were immediately fixed on the image near the door. The suit was classic black unfinished wool with the typical white dress shirt underneath. The shoes were matching and had the slightest bit of sheen. Expected dark, disheveled hair. Comforting blue eyes. The strained and nervous yet endearing small smile. His gaze locked with hers, a million emotions flooding her mind as small tears threatening to prick the corners of her eyes.

He was _there_ \- and his bow tie was adorably crooked.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay - I'm super sorry it took me so long to post this one! It's been a crazy week and I really wanted to take my time on this chapter so I could make sure to get it right :] I'm hoping it turned out okay! I have a few more to write I think so stay tuned. I hope you're still a fan of the story! As always, all rights/characters belong to OUAT.

A sheer curtain blew in the mild breeze, separating Emma's vision from the man she never expected to see. She peeked subtly through a thin opening in the material, a small, thankful smile controlling her lips as she did so.

Killian was chatting idly with Jefferson, doing that adorable ear scratching thing in an uncharacteristically nervous manner. He looked every bit the part of a devilishly handsome "plus one". The tuxedo he wore was a whole new type of dashing and his eyes had grown even more blue since she'd seen him last. He was less animated than normal - something Emma noticed quite quickly - and his smile seemed heart wrenchingly cautious. Emma concluded that it was probably hard for him to be there given their last conversation. She had treated him like he was every other person in life that had hurt her. She had pushed him away from her so forcefully that it's a wonder he hadn't fallen down. But he came _back_. Seeing as how she'd initially enacted this whole arrangement to protect herself from the nosy and demanding inquiries of family, it was almost realistic to say that he'd come back to save her.

It had taken her an unfair amount of minutes to cross the lobby at the hotel. She had been positive that her lack of peaceful sleep was forcing her to hallucinate. He wasn't really there - it had to be some sort of dream. When she finally met his very real stance and his honest gaze, he turned up a slight half smile.

"You look beautiful, Emma."

Her heart burst in her chest - of _course_ he would say something so amazingly sweet. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him hard, but that wouldn't be fair. It would be selfish to toss him onto an emotional roller coaster like that. She didn't want to put him at risk of being hurt by her stupid insecurities again. He had showed up though, even after everything. Emma hoped it was a start.

They didn't talk much in the car on the ride over as Emma was consumed by a poorly timed phone call from David, who gave her the _wonderful_ news that Will had some sort of ungodly travel delay on his trip back from wherever he'd been on business. This left Emma without an escort down the aisle. She listened to her cousin mentally rearrange things, knowing that somehow he'd find a way to stick Killian with her while procuring a stand-in for the other bridesmaid he would be leaving in a lurch. She wasn't wrong. David was ever the opportunist.

"He looks handsome, Emma. I hope you've told him so."

Emma spun around to meet the owner of the intrusive voice. Mary Margaret gazed back at her happily. She was the picture of a beautiful bride. Her ivory dress had intricate bead work and flawless seams. It was lacy and full - much like that of a princess. She looked poised and calm which was a huge surprise given the situation.

"You look great," Emma said with a smile, hopefully changing the subject. "David will be truly speechless when he sees you."

"I'd imagine that will be a nice change for you," Mary Margaret laughed, moving closer to where Emma was currently sight seeing. "Did you think he'd come? I mean, after everything?"

"Well I can't say I gave him much of a reason to," Emma replied, her guilt beyond evident as she spoke. "I guess part of me hoped he still would."

"I guess it all does start with hope, right?"

Emma smiled softly at the idea. She wasn't one to partake in such aspirations - her life had been built on shattered hope. As she watched Killian, she wondered why he held up his end of the deal after the way she'd shoved him away. It didn't take a genius to see that he - this man was different. It scared her in ways she didn't know were possible.

"How did you and David do....this - I mean, how'd you get here?"

The whole idea of entrusting the rest of your existence to someone else was a concept Emma had given up on ages ago. She had enough experience to believe that she wasn't made for anything long term.

"Well, it was never easy," Mary Margaret said after a moment. "In fact, being with David has been one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. He challenges me every single day and there are times when he infuriates me to no end. But, Emma, I love him. I _really_ love him. I never imagined it would be, but that fact alone is enough to outweigh anything. I guess I look at David and I see the future I never imagined to be possible. More than anything else, I see a safe, trustworthy place for my heart. I don't know that everyone is lucky enough to find that."

Emma continued to observe Killian as she listened to Mary Margaret. She had tried not to be too elated when he'd showed up. Her head told her he was just fulfilling an obligation - that he'd be gone the instant they returned home. Her heart knew better. As if he sensed her gaze, his eyes moved up and found hers although they were still somewhat shielded by the sheer curtain. Emma fell right into that sky blue stare and in that moment, she finally admitted it to herself.

When the _hell_ had she fallen in love with Killian Jones?

###### 

Amidst the soft acoustics, Emma watched the procession begin as Killian made his way forward. He was antsy and Emma could tell that it wasn't from being a fixture in the wedding party. He seemed distracted in an almost painful way so when she finally approached him at the starting point of the aisle, she took a small amount of pride in the relieved expression he suddenly displayed. She smiled sweetly, allowing herself to forget for a moment that their current terms of "together" were not ideal when it came to emotions they both clearly had.

"Big moment, Swan."

It was an offhand comment and Emma found herself a bit disappointed in his lack of teasing sentiment. The vicious tug at her heart was difficult to bear as he held out an escorting arm for her. She linked hers through his as she studied his expression with a few sneaky glances. He was sad - maybe past the point of being hurt and no longer desperate. He was the awful image of rejection and Emma concluded what needed to be done as they started up the aisle. She was going to _fix_ this.

The ceremony was perfect - full of hope and varying volumes of laughter. Emma had even caught sight of a few tears from David. It was wonderful - everything she knew he had always deserved and Emma smiled in charmed approval. She'd been captured by Killian's gaze throughout the vows, his eyes studious as if they were memorizing her. She did her best to listen to the heartfelt words and promises around her as her cousin and his fiance tied the knot, but it was difficult to concentrate. She just wanted to talk to him. Alone. She wanted to say....something - she just had to figure out what.

Emma had tried not to look too determined as she scoured the reception hall in search of him. David and Mary Margaret had reserved a beautiful Bostonian historical building for the evening and it filled with well wishers as night approached. Emma did her best to avoid those she knew would trap her in conversation. She had no idea where he'd gone and she began to grow concerned that perhaps he'd left - maybe he had changed his mind. As she let her insecurities guide her to the entrance to see if this was the case, she rummaged for her phone in her small purse she'd procured for the occasion. She stumbled a bit on a corner of an elaborate rug designed to welcome visitors into the building. Just before she nearly fell, she felt them - those two strong, warm hands on her shoulders. 

Killian gripped her softly, sliding her back onto her now even more unsteady feet. Their eyes locked in the brooding battle they'd been engaging in all day. Neither said anything as they both stared. What had happened to them? Their witty banter and flirty teasing from no so long ago was clearly not going to be making any appearance. An indistinct melody came from just behind Emma and Killian jerked up from his trance. Emma gasped, almost embarrassed as she pulled away.

"Sorry, I-"

"No, it's fine. Don't apologize, Emma."

Why did he have to do that? The effect of him using her first name had always caused that familiar knot in her stomach. An instrumental ballad that was soon joined by a few familiar words echoed and he moved a little closer.

"Care to dance?"

Emma found herself nodding as she continued to search his eyes. He slipped her a smirk - one she had missed _so_ desperately - and he led her to the open floor. He dropped a hand to her waist, resting his touch at her hip as he linked their free hands together. Emma watched his steady movements, wondering how he could be so calm when she felt so insanely frantic. He lifted his fiery gaze to watch her as the words to _"Make You Feel My Love"_ came from the surprisingly talented event band Mary Margaret's parents had hired to liven the evening.

Emma felt the unimaginably still strong magnetism that she'd always had with him as he drew her closer. He radiated that same scorching heat that had set her ablaze many times before. She wanted this - to be in his arms, twirling about the reception like two idiots in....wait, _no_. If she said it - if she used _that_ word, then it was all _real_. If she allowed it to formulate as something so tangible, it would hurt a million times worse when it ended.

"Killian, I...."

She didn't know why she started speaking. She had no idea what she wanted to say. He caught that quickly, telling her with his eyes that she didn't need to offer or apologize or ask for anything.

"It's okay, Emma."

"No, it's not okay. I just-"

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"That," he said, tilting his head at her adorably. "You don't have to try to fix anything."

She had no idea what he meant by that. It most certainly did need to be fixed - the way things were between them felt so.... _wrong_. She felt him slip through the lyrics and her fingers as the song came to a close. He stepped back in an abrupt manner and Emma could see him struggle with that choice as he did so. She reached for him instinctively before she could stop herself, a move that caused him to shuffle backward. His face looked tortured - his eyes anxious as he bit his lip and shook his head softly. Emma willed herself to say something, but before she could do so, he was headed for the exit. _No_.

"Killian, wait-"

He walked with purpose. Emma recognized his actions because she'd done the same thing several times herself - he was running from his emotions.

"Killian, just stop-"

He descended the steps and began down the walkway, the front courtyard of the building now empty as all festivities had commenced inside. The path was lit with lanterns, ones that swayed softly in the breeze. 

" _Killian_."

"Emma, just-"

She didn't care. She grabbed at his wrist to force him to turn and face her. When he did, she realized just how broken he was. His eyes were red with the threat of tears and his face somewhat flushed. He had dark circles outlining his vision, the victim to a lack of sleep. His lips were that same bruised red she'd seen before - typically when he'd been kissing her in that wonderful, out of control way - but this time she knew it was from the excessive, nervous biting he'd been doing. He looked lost. He looked _devastated_.

"Killian. Stop."

"Why?"

"Because....because you're here. You came - so tell me why. _Why_ are you here?"

His eyes grew incredulous at her question. He clenched his fists at his sides, tension and the will to control setting in. He was fighting a losing battle.

"Killian. _Please_. Tell me."

He said nothing. She said nothing. Instead, he flew forward, his hands roughly and passionately grabbing the sides of her face as his lips met hers. He began attempting to coax her mouth open, something that was actually easy given how much Emma missed kissing him. His hands slid into her hair, tangling in a tantalizing way. Emma's hands moved up his torso, gripping the lapels of the tux as she jerked him as close as possible. He kissed her with abandon - with a fervor that she'd hoped she hadn't destroyed when she drove him away. Time stopped and everything blurred around her as Emma realized she could stay in that position forever, allowing his intense ministrations to overcome her. After who knows how long, he tore his lips away from hers in anguish as their foreheads stayed set against one another's. He lowered his hands, dragging them to her arms and then up to where her fingers rested on his chest. He linked his hands with hers long enough to remove her touch from his chest, assisting her in lowering her hands to her sides. He stepped back, his eyes avoiding hers.

"Killian, what are-"

"Just....just a minute. I-I have to....I need a minute."

She watched him turn away as he echoed her words from not so long ago. He allowed the blue fire in his gaze to die down, facing her once more before he started back up the cobblestones and into the dark of the parking lot. Emma stood fused to the pathway, her fingers touching the burn left on her lips. She couldn't move, her heart pleading with her mind to go after him.

"Emma?"

Trying to regain any form of composure, Emma took a deep breath and wiped the tears she'd hadn't realized were rolling down her cheeks. Ruby came to her side, not having any idea what to do so she simply smiled and waited.

"They are, uh....well, they were getting ready to do the toasts so I-I told David I'd come find you," Ruby's voice stumbled. "If you need....a minute....I can tell them-"

"No, uh, no," Emma said, trying to straighten her posture and balance her emotions. "I'm fine. Let's-let's go."

Hell _no_ she wasn't fine - but nobody needed to know that. After so much unnecessary practice recently, Emma was pretty decent at pretending.

###### 

Emma stood as someone began clinking a glass, the standard sound announcing some upcoming words of celebration. She pulled the slip of paper from just under her plate, toying with its edges as she remembered how Killian had helped her write the speech - well, kind of.

###### 

_"Swan, you're way too in your head about this."_

_They had been laying in bed for hours, a rainy Sunday keeping them from doing much besides enjoying the warm of each other's bodies nestled under the blankets - not that either of them seemed to mind. Emma's mind swirled with an imperfect jumble of words - none of which she thought she could use for the reception's toast._

_"It's just they asked me....of all people. I just....I want it to be nice. I want to say the right thing."_

_"Hmmm," he said, grabbing her hand and interlocking their fingers. "Well, it's supposed to storm tonight so we both know it's highly likely I'll be awake. How about I make us something to eat and let you romanticize me with your post nuptial thoughts?"_

_She smirked up at him just like she always did. He returned the look just like he always did. She liked this - this comfortable something - despite how much she'd tried to fight it. He moved to sit up against the headboard and she followed him, laying her body firmly against his chest._

_"Killian?"_

_"Yes, love?"_

_She cut him off, carefully grabbing his jaw so his lips could meet hers for a kiss. He wasn't surprised anymore, but he still seemed to delight in any moment where Emma made a move toward him. It took him only seconds to return her unexpected gesture. His hands slide up her back, stopping in the middle as he held her against him. When they finally broke apart, the world around them was still fuzzy._

_"Well?"_

_"Well what?"_

_Emma was amused by his one word inquiry, curious about what he was asking. He smiled boyishly as he drew her closer into his firm embrace, circling her with his arms so he could look deeply into her gaze._

_"Suddenly inspired, love?"_

_"Yeah," she laughed as knowledge washed over her. "I guess you could say so."_

_As they snuggled back into the sheets, she felt herself finding the words for the exact speech she knew would be perfect for the wedding. Food became a notion set aside as he rolled them over, laying dozen of kisses from the base of her ear down to her collarbone._

###### 

The heavy weight of the microphone in her hand, Emma unfolded her small paper laced with notes for what she wanted to say. She'd worked it all out down to the last tiny detail and her eyes scanned the words, making sure she recalled how to sequence everything. She stood carefully, searching the room, but unable to find the comforting presence of Killian. Her lips parted a bit nervously.

"Most of you probably know that David and I grew up together," Emma began, a bit unsteady at first. "He was always such an optimist about love - something I've never been much of. I could never believe how someone could trust someone that way he and Mary Margaret do so with one another. It took me a long time to understand why he was so crazy about this idea of finding 'the one', but once I comprehended his craziness, I realized that the world would be a much more beautiful place if more people could love the way these two do. I've seen them at their happiest when they are so wrapped up in one another that the rest of us have a hard time watching and I've seen them both when they have been a little less pleased or dare I say somewhat annoyed with one another-"

Emma was pleased at the several small laughs that filled the room. She watched the newlyweds who both seemed quite surprised at the honesty in her words. She paused for a moment and looked back down at the paper. The mess of text seemed to bleed together as Emma decided she no longer wanted to follow her script. She folded it carefully and set it back on the table as she bit her lip, instantly knowing how to continue.

"-but you know, I think that's what love is. I think it's an insane roller coaster ride of the ultimate highs where you love someone to no end and the lows when you have trouble remembering why you do....but you _do_. I think it's wanting to spend every infuriating minute with someone who is so wonderfully, terribly perfect for you. I think the right person is meant to challenge you - to make you question everything in order to make you a better person. I guess I didn't use to understand that, but I do now-"

Emma's statement echoed in her own head as she met the variety of glances from those she cared for - David, Mary Margaret, Ruby, Regina, and even Robin. She finally understood what they had all figured out long ago. She and Killian were perfect for one another in the most crazy way. She grinned softly at this new idea, wondering why it had taken her so long to figure this out. After a moment, she remembered where she was and what she was supposed to be doing as the English major in her searched for the perfect line of recovery.

"-and I think it's wonderful that they have found that. We should all raise a toast to David and Margaret for helping us all believe in something most people don't even know they want. They are the honest picture of true love that can give us all a reason to hope. To the bride and groom."

The sound of agreeing applause filled the room as everyone raised a glass to the couple. Emma sipped the sweet champagne in her own flute as she lowered herself back onto her chair, staring down at the forgotten paper on the table. Feeling a set of burning eyes on her, she tilted her head to the opposite end of the table to meet David's gaze. He gave her a thankful half smile, one that truly appreciated the toast but one that also showed his complete gratitude that she had finally decided to quit being so stubborn. He tilted his head sideways toward the door, mouthing the word 'go'. Emma grinned widely at his approval, looking down to shake her head a few times in disbelief. Without a second thought, she stood up and bolted for the exit. She had no idea where she was going and no clue where he could be, but she was going to figure out some way to find him - to _tell_ him. Her feet were just about to hit the stairs when she was stopped by a loud voice from behind.

"Emma! Wait!"

She turned around abruptly to see Robin running toward her, some sort of envelope in hand. He stopped with a firm halt when he reached her.

"I thought you might need this."

Emma looked down to the extended hand, one that held a manila paper sized envelope that was much like the one Killian's secret had hidden in.

"What is it?"

"Just open it," Robin said. "It will make sense."

Emma stared as he turned back to go inside. She was about to pull back the metal tab when his tone stopped her.

"Hey Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"It's about damn time."

He walked away without further comment. _Yes it is,_ Emma thought with a soft smile. Her curiosity sparked again and she pulled open the envelope to find two documents - one that held Killian's always perfect penmanship - and a set of keys. She eyed the metal key ring, immediately recognizing them as the ones for his BMW. Hitting the unlock button and trying to listen for the chirp of the vehicle, she spied it a few paces away. Emma walked cautiously to the driver's side door. Why did he leave his keys? Where _was_ he? She concluded that he couldn't have gone too far if he remained parked there. She pulled open the door and for some unknown reason sat down on the smooth, cool leather. Looking up to the dashboard, she found it - a single red rose with a small note attached. Emma set the envelope and it's accompanying papers on the passenger seat as she leaned forward to read the inscription.

_You pierce my soul. I am half agony and half hope, but I have loved none but you. -Jane Austen_

Emma pursed her lips, unexplained tears filling her sight. It wasn't a love note, but more a declaration of sad affection - she hated herself for it. Setting the flower in her lap, she reached a shaky hand for the two documents. After the sweet yet heart wrenching quote, she was now very interested in what they were, but she hoped she wouldn't find more evidence of exactly how stupid she'd been. She located familiar solace for a moment in Killian's handwriting, opting to read that one first.

**Emma,**  
**You will have to excuse the abuse of one of your least favorite writer's words - just seemed fitting. If you're reading this, you'll know I'm a coward and I didn't stick around the wedding long enough to tell you how I really feel. I guess I don't want to put you in that position of admitting something that I think you might feel too when you're not ready. I hope maybe one day you will be. I wanted a chance to explain the business proposal to you. I'm sorry I was such a tongue tied idiot when you first asked about it the other night. I guess you do that to me - the leaving me speechless thing. I'd assume that you might see that one as a win for you. I wanted you to see the copy of what I sent back to them. I hope it will make sense why I did it. I'm leaving all of this with Robin who I hope will not be too frustrated with either/both of us to give it to you. Use the keys to the BMW to get home (I didn't think you'd be comfortable driving the truck given how much you have just loved my overprotective attitude toward it). I have a few things I'm going to take care of before I head back to Storybrooke. I want to give you however much space you need, but I hope you know that it in no way means that I'm giving up on you. I know you don't want to hear it, at least out loud, so I'm going to say it here. I love you, Emma Swan. I don't know how it happened, but I do. I'm not sure what it means or why it's changed me in so many ways, but you have become this light in my life that I didn't know was possible after such vast darkness. I want to thank you for that - for fixing me. Please know that if it is the only thing that ever comes of this that I am forever grateful for that. It was an honor to be asked to pretend with you, but an even bigger one to fall for you. I'll say it again and if you hate me for it, I don't care. I love you. I think and hope that I always will.  
-Killian**

Emma felt the cool stream of tears roll down each side of her face as she held the letter and the words that he'd been waiting to say for so long. He _loved_ her. Of course he did. It was not something anyone with eyes would have questioned. She was going to find him. Emma knew if she was about to run after him to wherever, she needed to do so with every ounce of information - no matter how horribly enlightening it would be. She needed to face the music. Taking a deep breath, she exchanged Killian's letter for the formal document - the one with the letterhead she had seen before.

**To the Partners of Neverland Maritime Incorporated:**

**I would like to express my sincere gratitude in the time your company has taken in proposing and negotiating the interest in buying Jones Brothers Sailing Incorporated. I regret to inform you that I will be electing to explore other options. Though your proposed offer exceeds my original expectations, recently developed circumstances will be preventing me from accepting the terms discussed during our previous mediations. This decision has been based on section 5.1A which proposes a two year contract including my relocation to the Ireland headquarters. I will no longer be able to fulfill said addendum. I wish you best of luck in your future business endeavors.**

**Most Sincerely,**  
**Mr. Killian Jones**  
**CEO and Founder of Jones Brothers Sailing Inc.**

Emma let the letter fall into her lap. She couldn't believe it. He was doing this - giving up all of this....for _her_. She was his "recently developed circumstances". Now, it was even more clear. She was _not_ going to lose him.

She frantically looked around the car for clues or _anything_ that might tell her where he was. Grabbing both documents to stuff them into the envelope, she saw the quick scrawl of pen on the back. It wasn't Killian's writing. It was Robin's.

**Flight 3474**  
**BOS >JFK>DUB** **Departing at 10:10 PM**

**Now go get him, Swan. -Robin**

Emma smiled at the information left for her by the man she knew wanted to kill her for being so careless with Killian's heart. The grin was short lived at she tried desperately to verify the flight in her mind. She threw around the three letters of the destination in her mind, wondering where on earth he was headed. They had school next week - he couldn't be going too far....unless he'd perhaps taken time off that she didn't know about. She shook her head viciously, trying to concentrate. Her eyes widened as it finally occurred to her. _Dublin_. He was going home. But why?

It didn't matter. Without thinking, she started the car and in a hazardous type of way that would have made Killian cringe while lecturing her about driving safety, she navigated the vehicle and her heart to the freeway. Logan International Airport was about twenty minutes away and as the dashboard clock hit 9:10PM, Emma realized she had one hour to reach him. Stepping firmly on the gas pedal, she set her resolve on making it there before takeoff. No, Killian Jones was not going _anywhere_ \- not if she had anything to say about it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit short, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long! I couldn't help myself on this one haha so I apologize if it's predictable or cheesy in any way. All rights/characters belong to OUAT (althought I wouldn't be mad if the creators would take note of the outcome here).

Stupid, _stupid_ airports. Well, stupid god damn Logan International Airport in particular. Emma hummed several anxious curses under her breath as she tried to navigate through the unexplained mess of construction cones and crowds of weary travelers. Killian's car was far too nice to be driving so recklessly, but she had to get there on time and the vacating tourists were making it _extremely_ difficult to do so without invoking squealing tires once or twice.

As she stopped at yet another crossing area, she thought of Killian and how much he'd appreciate the irony of her actually running _toward_ someone for a change. She allowed herself to hope that he'd be happy that _he_ was that someone. She spied a space that was somewhat _partially_ in the red zone and threw the BMW into park, clicking the lock as she prepared to run for the entrance. Thank god Mary Margaret had conceded on the shoe situation for the wedding. Running in heels would truly put a damper on the whole evening.

Oh, wait - Emma's insecurities had already _done_ that. She wanted to eternally scold herself for ruining this. She had spent hours over the past few days visualizing just how perfect the wedding could have been if she'd allowed herself to attend it with the real Killian Jones - _her_ Killian....yes, the one who _loved_ her. She'd made a whole string of phone calls to him on the way there, only to be met by the chipper accent of his voicemail message. She didn't leave a word - quite possibly because she was still trying to throw her speech together in her mind, but also because whatever she ended up saying or perhaps _shouting_ wasn't meant to be listened to at one's convenience.

"Ma'am, you can't park that car here!"

The loud voice came from one of the parking lot security vehicles. Emma was already on her sprint to get inside and she didn't take the time or consideration to yell anything back. She would deal with Killian Jones the protective car owner later if it meant she'd reach him in time to deal with him at all.

The security line was far too long, filled with far too many inattentive people and exhausted children who were at that time of day where it was sleep or cry. Emma's eyes frantically scanned the departure board for Killian's flight. On time. _Dammit._

She raised herself onto her toes, realizing that she couldn't even see the beginning of the line. Her frustrated gaze fell upon an elderly man working the identification checkpoint and although she would normally wait patiently, she just didn't have that luxury at the moment.

"Excuse me, sir? Sir! I need to get through security as soon as possible. I have a....there's a....I have to get to someone. He's leaving and I need to see him."

"Well, miss, you've got quite the wait here," he said with an understanding chuckle as he double checked a passport. "If you're just trying to catch up with a loved one to say goodbye, I don't know that you'll find much luck. Are you flying with him? If you've got a ticket to a promptly departing flight, I can see if we might be able to squeeze you through a little faster."

A ticket. A ticket to a flight that was leaving soon. Emma spotted an open agent, a middle aged woman who was smacking her gum in a distracted manner. Emma surged forward and slammed her credit card down on the counter, effectively startling the employee.

"I need a ticket on the next flight leaving this airport," Emma said in a hurried breath. "Give me ten minutes to make it through security."

###### 

Thank god she wasn't _actually_ headed to Tallahassee, Florida - and no, she didn't need to check a freaking _bag_. Emma shook her head as she remembered the counter clerk's ridiculous question and her less than satisfactory typing skills. Picking the slowest agent ever was only excusable because some minor delay on refueling the plane had given Emma an extra twenty minutes to get to Killian. All of that combined with a nearly $600 _first-class_ -because-it's-all-they-had-left _freaking_ plane ticket were the things currently fueling Emma's dead sprint to the end of Terminal B.

Yes, of course Killian's flight _would_ be departing from the furthest possible point away from where she'd less than legally left his car. _B26, B26,_ she repeated in her mind like a prayer. Almost there.

She found the dimly lit sign at the somewhat busy corner of the terminal and her eyes desperately searched the crowd. Plenty of businessmen who looked insanely tired and a few college kids probably headed back to the universities after a weekend home - there wasn't much else Emma would expect to see getting ready to board the red eye to New York. She tried to weave in and out of people as the intercom lit up with the sound of the final boarding call. _No_. She couldn't see him as she glanced from side to side in a sure state of panic. The people around her became an unwelcome blur. What if he'd already boarded the plane? What if he was leaving for good? What if she was too late-

"Emma?"

As the surprised voice met her ears from a short distance behind, Emma closed her eyes as an unknown, fantastic form of relief washed over her. She'd never been so glad to hear that stubborn, sultry accent in her life.

It really was unfair for him to look so unbelievably attractive while looking so completely wrecked. His dark unruly hair looked like he'd run his hands through it a million times and the light blue in his eyes was only muted by a firm sense of exhaustion and dark lines. His white dress shirt was untucked, hanging down just past the line of his fantastically fitted tuxedo pants. The jacket, bow tie, and even his sense of wistful hope had clearly been abandoned. But then he saw _her_.

Emma drifted slowly to the man who had lost his ability to move his feet but hopefully not his ability to smirk ironically. His current expression was bewildered and adorable. She wandered until her feet bumped his. She looked from her toes up to his curious eyes. It was her turn to speak first.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself."

Emma smiled softly at the way he had borrowed a greeting she'd used before. She'd made it in time. Part one of her mission complete. His gaze seemed to lighten as she reached for the hands hanging loosely at his sides. Emma allowed herself a bit of optimism when he didn't pull away.

"What are you doing here, Emma?"

"I wanted to see you."

He pursed his lips at this statement. Emma shook her head at her own ridiculous answer as if to erase it. He paused, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"I needed to see you," Emma tried, a little more self assured this time. "I forgot to tell you something."

"You did?"

"Yes. Killian, I was afraid....and I'm sorry. I was so busy trying to avoid feeling something for you that I didn't allow myself realize what I should have known from the second I asked you to help me."

"Hmmm," he said, a hitch in his voice as he pulled at her fingers and bit his lip with a big swallow. "So what _do_ you want, Emma?"

"I want you," she replied, her honest stare without waiver. "I want this....I want this to be real."

It took him several moments - far too long honestly. Emma watched his demeanor hinder but soon enough, his lips twitched up into a smile - that devastatingly, amazing, beyond desired Killian Jones Smile. 

"It _is_ , Swan."

He was waiting, giving her the chance to do it this time, and she did. Emma moved tentatively at first, her hands reaching to his shoulders to pull him closer, but Killian wasn't going to stand idly in waiting for long. His hands moved fiercely to her back, hauling her body closer to his as their lips fused together. They both seemed to dissolve into the kiss as it intensified. Emma sighed into his lips, feeling her legs grow unsteady as she let the weight she'd been carrying lifted. He didn't miss a beat, catching her in the arms she had come to know as some cliched form of home. Their heads moved in unison as his touch moved across her cheeks and some feeling Emma hadn't felt in years radiated between the two of them. She was so utterly and _completely_ in love with Killian Jones.

Emma took a deep, brave breath - she was finally going to tell him. As he pulled away, she tried to clear her mind of the fuzzy feeling his kiss created. She wanted to find her words - he needed to know. As she opened her mouth, he grinned wildly as if to interrupt.

"Emma Swan."

He said it as more of a statement as if he couldn't believe she'd really come after him - like he could not believe she was there. She smiled up at him, waiting for elaboration.

"Do you want to get a cup of coffee with me, love?"

God, she loved him.

###### 

She never would have imagined it when she'd tracked him down at the airport, but in all honesty, she should have expected no less. Here she was - post chase with the man she'd finally gone after and sitting in the airport cafe, a styrofoam cup of the _worst_ coffee in Boston on the table in front of her. He sat on the opposite side, his glowing blue eyes admiring her in a way she never thought anyone would. The cup warmed her hands and as she watched him slide two sugar packets across the table. He really knew her too well.

"You were leaving?"

"I was," he said in reply, tilting his head from side to side. "But I was coming back."

"You were?"

"Of course, love," he said with a half smile, furrowing his eyebrows and reaching across the table. "Wait - did you really doubt that I would?"

Her eyes told him to explain himself, but his said he wouldn't do it unless she would hold his damn hand. She conceded and he stroked her fingers lovingly as he took a sip of the terrible drink they'd agreed to get.

"Those morons offering to buy the Jones Brothers Sailing brand provided me a ticket to Ireland - you know, for the closing. When I rejected their proposal, I still had it. I still have the company there - production money, supplies, and what not. Nobody has worked there in years - the whole warehouse has been locked up since I left. I figured if I wasn't going to go back to sign over my name, I should go to figure out what exactly I did want to do with the company. I didn't plan on going at all until...."

Emma listened to him fade off for a second. She imagined the world where she hadn't run away from him - one where he might have forgotten about the ticket altogether and danced the night away at the wedding with her. God, she'd been _such_ an idiot.

"In an effort to give you.... _space_ ," he said, taking a breath to see if he'd found the correct words. "I called Principal Hopper and asked for a few days off. I was going to fly back in on Wednesday night."

He was going to do what he thought she needed - give her that space she always acted like she wanted. He wasn't leaving her. He was never going to leave her. 

"Well you were _awfully_ dramatic about the whole thing," she said with an insecure smirk. "With your defining letter and expectation that I'd drive myself home - how'd you even get here?"

"A modern day marvel called the taxi cab," he teased. "I trust you've heard of them - perhaps on your trip to New York?"

"Just left me high and dry, Jones....nothing but a note and a copy of your business records."

"Oh please," he said with a small laugh, squeezing her hand. "I just needed you to know how I felt - and for some reason, you have a real problem letting me do that vocally. So quickly before I lose my chance, Emma Swan, I-"

She held up a hand with raised eyebrows, doing her best to cut off the three word declaration he was about to share. He dropped his head backward in exasperation, absolutely stunned that she was stopping him _again_.

"Emma, seriously-"

"No, just hold on."

"Love, I-"

" _Killian_ , just one freaking second."

He pursed his lips humorously as she rummaged through her bag in search of his usual weapon of choice. Her eyes went wide when she finally found it, a satisfied smile moving across her face. She tugged his cup across the table and lifted it to eye level, doing her best not to spill the contained liquid poison as she wrote. The black Sharpie moved quickly across the cup and when she finished, she clicked the cap back on and slid the cup back to him. He eyed her suspiciously, but she smiled confidently and turned the cup to face him. His features lit up as he read the writing.

**I LOVE YOU, KILLIAN JONES.**

"My _original_ quote, by the way," she said, nudging his feet with her own under the table. "I'm no thief."

He stood to lean carefully across the table, raising a firm hand to cup her jaw as he kissed her with a passion that was now mutually confirmed. His eyes were that dreamy, hazy sort of perfect when he finally pulled away.

"I love you too, Emma Swan."

"You do?"

"I do," he said with a simple laugh. "Does that surprise you?"

"No," she said, peering up at the ceiling. "As great as it is to finally admit that I love you, I must say I have an additional motive in making sure that you feel the same way about me...."

"Hmmm," he said, invading her space once again, his nose rubbing against hers. "Why's that?"

"Because, Jones," she said, smiling against his lips. "I'm _pretty_ sure I got your car impounded."


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay here's a little fluff, a little smuff, and a little vulnerability haha. Just what these two need! So we're nearing the end :( still a few more to come, but I'm SO grateful for all of you and your kind words! I've had a hard time staying caught up on comments since I've been so wrapped up in writing this, but I really do appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts. Enjoy this one and watch for the next one very soon ;) per usual, all rights/characters belong to OUAT.

She had nearly forgotten the way she loved Killian's playful blue eyes - yes, only nearly because there was _no_ way anyone could totally forget a gaze like _that_. She was instantly reminded in the backseat of the taxi as the surrounding city lights illuminated just enough of his glance for Emma to see how completely happy he was that she'd found him. She recalled it again in the lobby of the hotel when he took her hand, the deep blue enveloping her as he pulled her closer. That look was everything.

Now, after Killian's long winded and almost comical discourse on parking regulations, Emma found herself just outside the door of their suite. As she slid the key card in, she had every intention of erasing the unpleasant memory he likely had of her walking out on him. She'd regaled him with the tale of her totally cliched, romantic comedy type of adventure to the airport that night and the same old witty banter they'd fallen back into reminded her of how easy it had been to be with him. As they entered the room, Emma continued to listen to his smooth voice and his accompanying smirk quickly made her question why she'd ever questioned _him_. Plus there were those eyes again - _god_ , how she loved his eyes.

"All I'm saying, Swan, is that you could have stopped me without getting the car seized if you'd quit being so _damn_ stubborn," he said, squeezing her side as he walked by. "Plus you could have avoided that costly little plane ticket and perhaps even the clearly entertaining drive to the airport altogether."

"Are you _done_ yet?"

She smirked at him and his rambling as he dropped himself onto the bed, laying back with a laugh.

"Oh, love," he said with a grin. "I will _never_ be done with you."

"Unbelievably refreshing to hear, _Killian_ ," she said with an honest grin. "But you can expect a bill for that stupid ticket - six hundred dollars to hunt you down in Terminal B is not _exactly_ an expense I had factored into the weekend. I will accept cash only."

He turned to look at her, a huge smile splitting up his face. Moving to where he was horizontally relaxing, Emma glared flirtatiously before leaning down for a sweet, simple kiss - the kind that reminded her for the thousandth time just how happy she was that she caught up with him. When her lips pulled away, his hand that was cupping the side of her face flexed and he swiped a thumb across her cheek. His eyes filled with the purest type of affection Emma had seen - and the count increased quickly to a thousand and _one_ times.

"Emma?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," he said with a soft, serious smile. "But if you coerce me into wearing a tuxedo ever again, I will have to cut off your constant coffee supply."

"No, wait - then I'd lose my daily dose of passive aggressive literature as well," she replied, her eyes wide with embellished horror. "I don't know that I can go back to a world without your Sharpie ridden wit."

"Hmmm. Right."

He pulled her down on top of him for another kiss, running his fingers across her ribs in a ticklish endeavor as she giggled - yes, giggled - and escaped back onto her feet. He pouted adorably as she moved to the closet and kicked her exhausted shoes off. The zipper along the back of her dress took a bit of stretch to reach, but she finally tugged it down. Hearing the slight shuffling from the other side of the room, she took a glance at the man in her hotel room and found she had to consciously steady her breath.

He was in the process of unrolling the white sleeves on the shirt he claimed to loathe. His fingers stretched them down past his biceps and elbows, his eyebrows fixed in concentration. He reached into his pocket, removing his wallet and passport to drop on the table. The shoes on his feet quickly became untied and he slipped them off to produce a hilariously adorable view of those argyle socks. The picture of undress that seemed to be unfolding in front of her was proving to be difficult for Emma to tear her eyes away from as she began to slide her dress off her shoulders. Suddenly, his vision lifted quickly to meet hers. The deep blue was drowning and Emma wondered what caused the instantaneous look of concentration. 

All too quickly, the realization dawned on her as she watched his fingers stop on the third button of his shirt. They'd done _this_ already. They'd been in this position many times before and in much less _decent_ positions even _more_ often but this - it was _different_ now. They loved each other. They had _said_ it. Now, things would be different.

"Hey," he said, his smile softening as he began to move closer. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Stop thinking that things are going to change," he replied softly, taking her hands in his. "I love you. It changes _nothing_."

Emma gently squeezed his fingers, noticing the way his breathing had grown confidently even. She looked up to see those animated, arched eyebrows and twitchy lips that quickly transformed into the grin that she had somehow once completely detested. Now, it made her heart flutter in the most absurdly possible way. 

Her matching smile became an invitation, one that he quickly took advantage of. He raised his hands to gently cup the sides of her face, fingers dragging along her jaw line and he brought her lips to his. His mouth moved against hers in a well known fashion as her fingers took over the nimble task of unfastening the buttons on his shirt. Once she conquered the last one, the fabric fell from his shoulders as Emma skimmed her hands upward across his firm torso and then to his chest. Killian's gentle hands found their way through her hair, the left one settling at the back of her neck at the other helped lower the partially removed dress to the ground.

The second the material hit the carpet, they both paused for a moment. Killian's hand continued to tangle softly in her hair as they locked eyes and Emma fought back a breaking emotion that she hadn't felt before. 

"Hey, love. What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," she said softly, biting her lip as she looked up at him. "Just....just a minute."

"We don't exactly have the best track record with that statement," he said, tilting his head to capture her attention. "Tell me, Emma. Please. Is something wrong? We can stop-"

"No, it's just....you're _here_ ," she finally said, a tear finding its pathway down her cheek. "I just can't believe you're here."

Killian's eyes went wide with the utmost elation, an unbelieving expression on his face that seemed to say of-course-I'd-come-back-for-you. He used the pad of his thumb to swipe the tear away and an adorable smirk found his lips while he waited for her - wondering if she wanted to add to the statement that clearly set fire to his heart.

"I just didn't think I'd see you here again. I was so stupid - I drove you away and now," Emma tried, her eyes narrow with vulnerability and her voice a bit shaky with rambling. "I'm just trying to remember that this is....I just can't believe it's actually-"

"Real?"

He cut her off with a devastatingly amazing smile and that word she'd been so afraid of. She had been terrified of letting herself fall for this man, but now, she didn't want to envision any situation where what they had wasn't the purest possible form of real imaginable.

"Emma," he began, running his fingertips from her shoulder down her arm. "It's always been some type of real with us. The first time I met you, I was a _real_ jackass. You are and have _always_ been a real challenge. When you asked me to come to the wedding with you, it honestly was a real surprise - a pleasant one but a surprise nonetheless. Everything - the rainstorm, the quotes, driving home from New York far too late at night to be with you - it was _all_ real. Always."

Emma's knees went a bit shaky as she listened to another Killian Jones all too sweet declaration of love - yes, she would now admit that love is _exactly_ what it was. As she stood there, half naked with him, she realized that they had been so amazing at this ruse because they actually never really had to pretend at all.

"...so now, if you _don't_ mind," he continued, running those same fingertips up her spine. "I'd like you to stop trying to be a _real_ pain in the ass because I'm _here_ and you don't get to use that overactive mind of yours to manipulate me away again, Swan. I'm onto your little game."

"Ah, foiled again," she grinned, her voice stabilizing at his playfulness. "Okay then - you win."

"Mmmm," he said, pulling her closer. "You know how much I love winning."

His arms went around her waist as his lips moved to her neck, teeth nipping softly. Emma's hands drifted to his pants, successfully loosening them as they dropped to the location of the other clothes. A soft moan left her lips as he gripped her backside with a strong caress, stepping away from their clothes and backing her into the nearby wall. Her soft grip on the back of his neck prompted his lips to rejoin hers in a fusing passion that had them both operating with a heightened energy. Without another thought, Emma ran her fingernails down his back, drawing a soft sigh of pleasure from him. Killian quickly reacted by moving stealthily to his knees, kissing her body on his way down. He stopped at the hemline of her underwear, running his lips along her torso in a soft pattern before his teeth took hold of the fabric to drag it shamelessly to the floor. He stared up at her, smirking at the aroused look on her face as he kissed a pathway back up her thighs. Emma knew exactly what he was planning, but she couldn't wait - she needed to _feel_ him. 

As soon as she pulled him back up to stand, quick work was made of yanking his boxer briefs down. Once exposed, he lifted her, causing her to brush against his hard length on the way up as she settled between him and the wall. He looked up at her, running his tongue along his lower lip before biting down seductively. Driving his hand back into her hair, Killian pulled her down for a bruising kiss. Emma moved her lips against his with a passionate fervor. It didn't take long for his lusty endeavor to move back to her neck, his breath hot and sultry.

"Mmm, I _love_ you, Emma," he choked out as she began to rub down quite suggestively against him. "I missed you....so.... _much_."

" _Killian_ ," she breathed against his skin. "Killian, I love you. Make love to me."

He smiled wickedly as he thrust forward, entering and pinning her body flush against the wall. A sharp, unexpectedly loud moan drifted from Emma's lips as he set a rhythmic pace. The pleasured sound drew an equally sinfully one from him as his movements became more deliberate. Emma felt herself right on the brink of falling when he quickly pulled her to him, dragging the heat of her skin on his as they fell to the bed. She began to melt into the sheets as he rose to hover over her. He remained deep inside and his body resumed its sensual movements as Emma's volume began to grow uncontrollably. It was only a few more tortured moments of their hips snapping together before Emma finally pulsed around him and his body went rigid with satisfaction. He pulled back to look at her with a lusty smirk, his hips vibrating automatically in a continued fashion as he rode out every last bit of pleasure.

" _God_ , love," he said, biting his lip as he swiped a hand through her hair. "Mmmm."

Emma grinned up at him, his hair a mess and his skin burning. His eyes were that same color she had a real fondness for - and honestly she loved it in any shade. She allowed herself to stare at him for longer than she probably should have, taking in every little detail about him like it was all brand new. Of course, he didn't fail to notice.

"Though I'm flattered by your _fascination_ with me, love," he said with a teasing smirk, rolling onto his back and pulling her to his chest. "Staring like that might make a man self conscious."

"Ha! Please, Jones," Emma all but snorted, wrapping her arms around his torso. "I can't think of a _single_ instance where I've seen you ever act self conscious in _any_ way."

Emma awaited his sassy reply, but instead she was met with a gentle laugh that moved in his chest against where her head was resting. His arms went tight around her and he placed a gentle kiss in her hair.

"I'm sorry, Killian."

"For what?"

He shifted suddenly, craning his head around to search her eyes. His brow was furrowed as he tried to prod her for an answer by stroking her shoulder with his thumb.

"For pushing you away," she said with a sigh, nuzzling against his bare skin. "I'm just....I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Emma."

Killian rolled to his side, pushing Emma to her back as he moved in for a fierce kiss that effectively cut off her insecure apology. As Emma faded into the caress of his lips, she forget everything except the current moment. It was a nice change - this whole living in the here and now.

"I love you, Swan," he said with an adoring grin, running a finger up and down her jaw. "I'm here - _we're_ here. So don't start apologizing. This is all that matters now. You found me."

Emma realized in that moment how uneven the quota was. Killian was so happy to finally be able to freely vocalize his love for her that he'd been doing it in a wonderful, frequent manner all night. She felt so lucky to have not lost him and so terribly fortunate to be so _crazy_ sick in love with him - she wanted to make sure he knew.

"Killian?"

"Hmmm?"

She lifted her hand to the dark hair of the man hovering above her, running firm fingers through his silky scalp. His eyes closed in relaxation at her touch and Emma smiled at this new intimacy they'd found. She coaxed his eyes open as she ran her thumb across the scar under his eye - that brilliant blue swallowing her whole.

"Thank you for this - for not giving up....for....for fixing me," she began, copying a few words from the letter he'd left her. "I should have had more faith in your ability to do so."

"Ah, yes. You should never doubt my tenacity when it comes to you, love," he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows humorously. "Although you could have made it a _bit_ easier for me...."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, digging playful fingernails into his scalp. "Are you going to let me finish?"

He pursed his lips with a curious smirk, nodding softly. His arms stayed enclosed around her, a comfortable warmth between them.

"Killian, I just....I-I love you," she said sweetly, eyes focused and all thoughts of some egregious speech vacating her mind. "I do. I love you. It sounds so simple when I say it like that, but maybe that's okay. Maybe simple is absolutely okay."

He smiled widely, his dimples deepening as his happiness became instantly contagious. As Emma watched the pure joy overcome his insanely cute expression, she realized that it was simple - for once - and this kind of simple was exactly what she wanted.

"Well, love," he said in a ridiculously seductive way, rolling to his back and switching their positions. "I must say it's about bloody time."


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay here's another :) I think I've got one more after this one and then an epilogue for sure since I've already got a plan for that! I hope you're still enjoying it - I'm sad it's almost over! It's been so fun to write. As always, all rights/characters belong to OUAT.

Killian Jones and his damn _impeccable_ balance. Emma had finally concluded that her boyfriend's supernatural ability to equalize the weight of objects in his hands was the only way he'd been able to bring coffee most mornings for the two of them whilst still carrying the usual things he toted back and forth from school every day. Of course he'd had much more practice than her what with his attempts to rip off the classic literary world, eventually winning her over in the process. Plus he taught wood shop - it's not like he had to tote stacks of essays to muse over or endless homework to grade when he went home each night. In all actuality, when _they_ went home - which was more often plural than not - he'd been rather helpful and only a _bit_ distracting as he used his own red pen to sort through misused adjectives and listless supporting details with her.

But the balance thing - she wasn't sure exactly how he'd mastered that skill. This was the thought running through her mind as she attempted to carry two steaming styrofoam cups, a stack of beginning poetry books, a bundle of surprisingly well written final drafts, and her dwindling dignity into the school well before the first bell even dreamed of ringing. She'd truly had to focus as she did her best to ignore the butterflies that still held residence in her stomach. She saw him pretty much every morning even before school - usually in one of their beds with disheveled hair and adoring eyes - but the walk to the side door of the shop still gave her that jittery sense of anticipation. She honestly didn't know if it would ever go away. It was okay with her if it didn't.

Killian had left her house earlier than normal that morning - a grueling, passionate kiss or five first - for a meeting with Principal Hopper and though she restlessly attempted to go back to sleep after he'd gone, she found herself defeated far too quickly. She decided that she'd try to locate the bright side of being up earlier than usual and although she did _not_ find the sun, she did discover the perfect opportunity to beat that coffee bringing, quote stealing Killian Jones at his own game.

Her all too ambitious idea quickly landed her in her current struggle - the impossible balancing act of too many things to hold and the task of wedging the shop door open. When she finally nearly stumbled inside, she immediately and carefully set down the to-go cups on a nearby workbench. God forbid she spill a latte on the peculiarly sawdust free floor.

Killian was still in his meeting. Yes, she figured he would be. Emma grinned cleverly to herself as the words swirled in her head - those of Austen or Fitzgerald or some other writer that would probably forever make her blush. A small spring in her step, she set off in search of a Sharpie. Upon facing a slightly concealed, dimly lit area of the shop, she quickly found the hunt for a marker banished to the back of her mind as her vision filled with Killian's latest project.

It was lifted lowly off the ground, propped up as if in preparation for more work. The product was probably once a simple pile of marine plywood, but as Emma admired the seamless carpentry and fastenings as well as the shiny epoxied planks, it wasn't hard to tell what he'd been up to. It was a sailboat - a smaller one that was called a skimmer if she recalled his nautical naming of things lesson correctly. She couldn't help but smile as she cautiously ran her fingertips across the beautiful craftsmanship, imagining the meticulous movements he'd likely used as he worked.

"Note to self to lock the door next time," his voice came from the doorway, interrupting her thoughts. "But I suppose I wouldn't mind intruders if you fell into that category, my love."

His smirk was deliciously taunting, laced with that familiar sarcasm that Emma now found to be amazingly endearing. His eyes were a playful blue, a bit tired from their.... _very_ simultaneous lack of sleep - but breathtakingly nonetheless. He was currently pulling a wretched navy blue tie from his neck in a typical anti-fancy way. She grinned at his dramatic gesture and also at the fact that he'd chose to pair said tie with a lighter blue checkered shirt. She'd bought it for him in Boston in an attempt to demonstrate that he didn't have to wear his full suit to prove a point. If the way it stretched over his biceps and extenuated his eyes was evidence, she _had_ definitely proved _her_ point.

"Well I'm no architect, Mr. Jones," she said, tinkering with a stray piece of wood as she continued to study his work. "But this doesn't look like something a junior high student could whip up in an hour long class period."

"Ah, yes," he said, watching her curiously. "A bit ostentatious I suppose. I guess you could say I have a lack of work space at home."

Emma rolled her eyes at him, a small smile on her lips as she listened to his blatant fib. She had spent more than enough time at his place over the past month since they'd returned home from the Boston trip that changed everything to know he was lying. There were plenty of square feet in his beautifully modernized home - the one that Emma had finally confirmed to be littered with furniture he'd crafted himself. The conversation of many of those items and their origins had happened when Emma found herself perched atop them - sometimes in innocent circumstances but more often in quite indecent ones.

"You've been building this then?"

"Aye, love."

"You never told me," she said, turning to quirk an eyebrow at him. "I didn't realize you were turning your talents to such a big endeavor."

"I think I shall take that as a compliment," he said, smiling as he cleared a space on a lone workbench of some tools so he could hop onto the surface. "Although we really should work on your ability to grant such flattery."

"Hey, stop that," she said, moving across the floor and into his arms that had instinctively opened to embrace her. "What I was going to say before I was so _rudely_ interrupted is that it's absolutely beautiful. Really, Killian - I....I had no idea."

He smiled sweetly, grateful for her kind words but even more so for her presence. He lifted a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, leaning forward to kiss her softly. She returned his action, using every ounce of willpower she had to keep herself from falling into the depths of the kiss that could surely intensify. They'd opted to keep things PG-Rated at school until the year ended....well, PG-13 maybe.

"I missed you this morning."

His teeth flashed against her lips at this - he seemed to love when she shared sweet little sentiments such as this one. His hands moved to the back of her back, tracing her spine gently.

"It was nothing short of torture to abandon you, love," he agreed, his arms enclosing her between his legs and the workbench. "Let's not make a habit of it, eh?"

"Good idea," she said with a grin. "Oh hey, I brought you something!"

She shifted away and lifted the still hot cup for him to see. He smiled appreciatively, reaching for it and for her. Emma returned to the place between his legs as she turned the cup full circle, clearly in search of what she knew he would be.

"I didn't get that far yet," she said guiltily. "The discovery of the sailboat distracted me from ransacking your desk for a marker."

"Here," he said, pulling one from his back pocket. "Have at it, love."

She grinned at him, unbelieving at his preparation but laughing at herself for expecting any less. She looked up, rearranging the words into the proper order in her mind. As her curvy penmanship began to take over the surface of the cup, Killian told her odd facts from his meeting and found any and every excuse to touch her skin. She relished in the feel of his hands, but tried to remind herself that their place of work in the early morning was _probably_ not the best time for such touching. Perhaps late evening would be better - wait, _no_. She truly had to quit thinking that way.

"So modest," he grinned, watching her flinch under his ministrations. "I find it rather amusing that you're so interested in keeping me as your dirty little secret, Swan."

"Hey, we talked about this," she said, clicking the cap back on the marker and arching her eyebrows at him. "As much as I'd just love to get some lecture about dating in the workplace and go through signing some awful form of disclosure to the school district that verifies the fact that I like being in _this_ particular position, I don't think it's a terrible idea to just keep things under wraps until summer. Next year is a whole new story."

She watched him bite his lip in a pensive state at those words and Emma wondered why he had that sudden reaction to her referencing the future. It was short lived - a soft nod and a knowing smile taking its place.

"I know, Swan," he said reassuringly. "I guess I will just continue to suffer through keeping you all to myself."

"Good," she said with a small laugh, turning the cup to face him and kissing his lips once more. "I better go before you start having second thoughts. See you after school, right?"

"Yes, of course. In fact, I was hoping we could have dinner - Marco is opening the cafe by the docks up again for the season. Perhaps we could stop in and say hello? Get something to eat?"

"I'd love to," she said, happily moving toward the door and pausing when she reached it. "And I love you, Killian."

"Likewise, my love."

His eyes drifted to the black ink on the cup as she exited and he found himself enthralled with the choice, timing, and overall charm of Emma Swan.

_Actually, that's my secret. I can't even talk about you to anybody because I don't want any more people to know how truly wonderful you are. -F.S. Fitzgerald_

###### 

He had been acting so.... _strange_. Ever since she stopped by his class after school that day, he'd been so distracted - antsy even. He seemed as if he was almost trying to shuffle her out of the way. She wasn't stupid. KIllian Jones only acted that way when he was up to something.

He'd told her to meet him at the docks. It was unsettling to go home without him - she hadn't done that much lately and she was instantly reminded by she wasn't a fan of it at all. The house seemed lonely and cold without his heated gaze and genuine laughter. She tugged on some warmer clothes to fight off the nightly chill - a cable knit sweater and jeans - before quickly vacating the Killian-less abode.

The drive to the docks was one she could probably do blindfolded - though such an act would obviously be entirely stupid. She'd become so familiar with the stops and turns that led to Killian's doorstep. She peered down the path that led to his house as she drove by, noticing that the truck remained parked on the circle, but the car was gone. He must already be at the cafe. The clock on her dashboard read 6:43 - confirming that she wasn't late for their seven o'clock dinner. Her mind flickered back to his odd expression earlier at the conclusion of their meeting in the wood shop. She tried to dismiss it, determined to not let her irrational way of over thinking things ruin their night.

Parking was always simple as the little establishment was somewhat unknown and only frequented by those who spent excessive time by the water. As the weather warmed each day in Storybrooke, Killian definitely fell into that group of citizens. He truly loved the sea and it was beyond enjoyable for Emma to watch the man _she_ loved enjoy the place _he_ loved. He was so confident and so at ease that it made her wonder why he had given up sailing full time - well, at least the business of sailing anyway.

It didn't take her long to find him. He was standing on the deck around the back, facing the water as he chatted animatedly with Marco. Emma hadn't been able to clarify all of the details yet, but it was apparent that the two men had quite a history together. It seemed as if the old man cared for Killian on some type of emotional level - a pure, trustworthy bond where they perhaps looked after one another.

The conversation carried on, but Killian's eyes lit up when he saw her approaching. That reaction was one that would never cease to make Emma's breath hitch involuntarily in the best way. He had dressed down a bit, pulling on those well worn shorts and a thick black sweater - one that Emma had borrowed on several occasions. His feet were covered with a pair of his "nice" leather boat shoes - they'd had a conversation that distinguished the two proper categories for his foot apparel recently. He was truly ridiculous sometimes.

Emma found herself scaling the steps quickly and sliding into his arms as quick as possible. He didn't take his ears away from his talk with Marco, but his body gave way to her presence as she felt him relax against her. He pressed a quick kiss to her hair, pulling her tight once and then stroking her shoulder with his thumb. Things were so peaceful and so simple. Emma liked - no, she actually _loved_ this. She loved _him_.

A few customers arrived and a surprised Marco took it upon himself to vacate the deck in order to assist them. Before he ducked inside, he told Killian that they could sit at the same table where they usually did. Emma laughed at the knowledge that though they'd only been there twice before, they apparently had a "usual" spot already.

"Hey you," he said, his arms tightening around her once Marco was out of sight. "I'm glad you made it."

"Oh please," she smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "Where else would I be?

He chuckled softly, allowing her lips to press into his - a movement that quickly turned passionate. Emma moved her arms around his neck, using the strength of his shoulders to all but hold her unstable knees steady. Kissing him had a way of weakening her body in a most cliched way. He held her softly by the small of her back, deepening the kiss momentarily and then pulling away with a gasping sigh. He placed one more solitary kiss on her forehead before opening his eyes to meet hers.

"We better find a seat, love," he said regrettably and flirtatiously. "I don't know how much Marco would appreciate us making a scene on the deck."

"Oh, _fine_."

He pulled her to his side, guiding her into the cafe to the table by the window - the one where they'd appeared frozen and then thawed on the night of the rainstorm. As Emma found her seat, she noticed a beautiful collection of flowers - white lilies, a few pale pink peonies, and a couple of peach roses - all tied up with a burlap string. They were beautiful in a way that made her heart throb, but also in a way that drew a large question mark in her mind. He was _definitely_ up to something.

Emma sat across from him, pulling the bundle of blossoms up carefully to breathe in the fresh scent. _So_ heavenly. So what was _this_ all about? She gave him a look that suggested that she might be onto his game and a resigned smirk cracked over his lips as he held up two white envelopes of equal size. She smiled in satisfaction - he was truly getting _terrible_ at fooling her.

"Pick one."

Emma mused at his little game, pointing to the one on the left first. He handed it to her with a goofy, half smile and she took it with the utmost curiosity.

"You're being quite cryptic, Jones...."

"Just open it, love."

Emma ripped open the seal, finding two folded documents inside. She focused her eyes on the first one. Her demeanor went light in her realization that it was a business relocation letter and a new operating license for Storybrooke. She outlined the text of Jones Brothers Sailing Inc. at the top - finding it ironically adorable that the seal of Killian's company included an anchor and a bird that looked remarkably a lot like a swan. She thanked the heavens for happy coincidences.

"You're keeping the company."

"Yes, I am," he said, his eyes searching her. "I'm keeping it here. I'm moving everything - _here_."

Emma felt the familiar flattery overtake her. She should really be used to it by now. He seemed to be willing to do whatever he needed to do when it came to her - apparently moving every asset, aspect, and plank of wood that made up his sailing company across the ocean was now another selfless act she could add to that list.

"Killian," she began, the letter in hand as she arched her eyebrow at him. "Are you sure? I mean, something like this....it's-it's going to be really expensive, isn't it? I can't imagine shipping everything to Storybrooke and informing your clients of the change is going to be easy....or cheap, but-"

"Swan," he said, smirking at her rambling and cutting her off. "More reading to do."

She sighed heavily in amazement, unfolding the second paper rashly as she gazed at him with a smirk.

 

**Dear Mr. Killian Jones & Partners of Jones Brothers Sailing Incorporated,**

**Our board of directors and inclusive trustees thoroughly enjoyed your presentation on the relocation and endorsement of your company and its intentions. We have taken great pride in the business we have conducted with you in the past and look forward to this future opportunity to continue our professional relationship. We have carefully reviewed your proposal regarding the costs of relocating and resuming business in the location of Storybrooke, Maine in the United States. Under the advisory of financial personnel, we have elected to grant you a start up donation in the sum specified below for the expenses accrued during your transition period. We have the utmost respect and faith in your conduct of business and we look forward to exploring this new endeavor as your esteemed clients.**

**Most Sincerely,  
Second Star Nauticals  & Stewardships, Inc.**

 

Emma's eyes scanned the length of the letter to the specified itemized list near the bottom of the page. Her eyes blew wide open at the extremely large number indented into the paper, beaming at her like headlights. She attempted to pick her jaw up off the table as Killian grinned wildly at her.

"Killian, are you _serious?!_ I mean....really?"

He simply smiled, reaching across the table to tangle his fingers with hers. He looked elated - satisfied in every way - and Emma didn't know how he could be so calm about something so insane.

"Do you realize how much _money_ this is?!"

"Of course I do, love," he laughed, squeezing her hands. "Boats aren't cheap, Swan. It's really just start up capital - funds to get everything moved here, beginning production costs, and things of that nature. It's - well, it's a start. A new one."

His eyes were full of hope and Emma watched his entire being lighten immensely as she hung on the last thing he said. It's a start - a new one. _Much like this_ , she thought.

She couldn't stop herself from practically leaping across the table, grabbing him by the color, and kissing him one hundred percent senseless. They breathed hard against one another for a moment, pouring every little emotion into the movement of their lips. Killian coaxed her mouth open, his tongue running across her bottom lip. Emma nearly moaned, but instantly remembered where they were and jerked back, her lips barely leaving his. He laughed at her variety of impulses, enamored with her relentless and quite enthusiastic support.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Killian?"

She looked up at him hesitantly. She'd always had those little underlying insecurities - the ones that randomly reared their heads and threatened any form of happiness. Yet every time Killian gave her the look he currently was, she felt one or two of them fade completely away. He took her hands in his, his thumbs rubbing fiercely against her palms in reassurance.

"I want _you_ , Emma," he said firmly. "Having the company here allows me to have both. That is, if you'll have me?"

She grinned at his dramatic feign of doubt. Of _course_ she'd take him - well, actually, she didn't have plans to lose him. Ever.

"So what's in the other envelope?"

He grinned, picking the second one up from the table and reaching across the surface to her. She did the same with this one, tearing it open at the top. This one had a few more mysteries - three from what she could tell. The first was actually to be expected at some point during this whole process, but the glow of Killian's handwriting in that black ink still made her heart clench. It was a simple note card, the smell of sea engrained in the texture.

_I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all she should be. I love her and it is the beginning of everything.  
-F.S. Fitzgerald_

He may have been milking Fitzgerald's words for everything they were worth, but Emma's heart still melted at his well chosen sentiment. She let him know with the soft, rare smile she reserved for moments like this. He winked, lightening the mood in only a way that he could. Emma reached into the envelope to retrieve the two remaining items. Two identical items.

"Killian? What is this?"

He arched his eyebrows hopefully as Emma's eyes scanned the documents. They were tickets. Plane tickets to Ireland - two of them. He wanted to take her home - to _his_ home.

"Killian...."

She felt her hands shake a bit at the fact that he wanted to open that door to his past for her to see. She never dreamed she'd get such a chance to find out more about him and now that she was being asked - well, on _paper_....since that's typically how he did things - she couldn't imagine saying no.

"Is that a yes, love?"

She smiled, running her finger over the printed text that told her they were going to spend almost two weeks in the land of Killian's roots. There was just _no_ way this sort of wonderful could be real.

"No, Jones, it's an absolutely _yes_."


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH! Here it is - the final one :( well, sort of. I have something of a wonderful epilogue planned so stay tuned for that. It took me a little longer to write this one - I wanted to do my best to wrap up the story in a way that would do these two justice. I'd love to hear your thoughts :) thank you so much for reading! I am so grateful for all of your kind words and support! So here you go....and as always, all rights/characters belong to OUAT.
> 
> *Also, side note - I have a new idea for another AU fic twirling around in my head....keep an eye out for it soon ;)

He'd claimed that not all who wander are lost and yes, Emma was pretty neutral when it came to anything Tolkien wrote. She wasn't especially fond of his lengthy descriptions of mountains or the hot mess of his characters' names, but she could easily respect the value of his work.  
  
Yet that peculiar quote was one she'd always had this strange affinity for - perhaps because she'd seen herself as lost, wandering, or both at any given moment during her life. She liked the justification - the simple reassurance that _maybe_ she would not be lost forever. Maybe one day, she'd be _found._  
  
Well, on this particular day, she was perusing the Irish city streets in a car that was driving on the opposite side of the road - something she was _not_ fond of - with a frustratingly calm Killian Jones. As she watched him turn the car around for the third time, she rolled her eyes. Tolkien could go ahead and shove it - they were _lost_ as _hell._  
  
"Emma, you know I'm technically still a citizen here, right? I'm fairly sure I can navigate the city of Dublin quite accurately."  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him as he chuckled, amused at her annoyance. Emma truly tried to feign irritation with him, but his mussed dark hair and quirky grin made the attempt difficult. He looked good in this light - well, in _any_ light really - but the Irish sunshine seemed to make Killian that carefree, happy, irresistible man she'd fallen for. He seemed so.... _excited_. She never thought she'd get to see this side of him - this past he'd left behind - and now that she was here and he genuinely wanted her to see and know all of it, she could not help but be delightfully amused at his childlike wonder and anticipation.

They'd been everywhere. He'd caved on taking her up the coast to the beautiful cliffs of Moher - first saying it was such a touristy thing to do, but retracting his comment in a nonverbal way when he gazed at her expression upon seeing the natural wonder. He'd taken her to stroll the city at night when the lights illuminated the architecture of Trinity College and the outline of numerous cathedrals. She'd seen the boathouse near the company's lax headquarters and watched Killian Jones the CEO at work - sorting paperwork, placing orders, and arranging transport for supplies to the states. Emma had taken great delight in observing the stretch of his muscles as he rearranged stray panels of wood to make it easier for packaging and he'd mused at the way her view had caused a _quite_ welcome diversion from work - one that ended with them sated against each other on the desk he'd built for the main office. 

Dublin with Killian Jones had been eye opening in every sense of the term thus far and when he'd arranged this little venture, Emma wondered what he could be up to now.

"Ah, _finally_ ," he declared, locating a secluded parking lot that fell in the shadow of some architectural wonder. "Ready, Swan?"

###### 

She wasn't sure where they were, but she was pretty positive they've fallen into some alternate world - one where Emma could possibly even believe in fairytales. The castle like structure was proof that a realm like that could truly exist. The building itself was simple with red brick and dark iron wrought gates. Yet the secluded, mysterious feel of their destination was one Emma felt immediately drawn to explore. She shook her head at his decision to bring her to a historical and perhaps romanticized building. It was just like him to read her like a freaking open book.  
  
Killian reached for her hand with a goofy half smile as he all but dragged her to the front entrance. They reached the concrete steps that led up to an arched doorway. Vines wove in and out of the iron inlaid entrance as Emma allowed her eyes to travel up to a simple yet still elegant sign announcing the method to his madness.  
  
 _Marsh's Library._ Emma actually laughed out loud at his continued interest in her love of literature.  
  
They scaled the stairway and as Emma stepped through the open door, she quickly wondered how she'd entirely lost her breath. It was without a doubt one of the most beautiful places she had ever been in. Double floors of books towered on each side littered with sturdy ladders to assist in gathering hard to reach texts. The walls eventually arched into curved ceilings that provided an open room feel to the extreme. The windows of multiple panes let in daylight that illuminated the rich, worn leather covers of the thousands of books. Emma's jaw still hung ajar by the time she finally turned her sights back to Killian. He looked victorious and thrilled. She couldn't help but love him.  
  
" _Killian_....I-wow...."  
  
"I'd hoped that might be your reaction, love," he grinned, squeezing her hand. "Though I must agree. This might be my favorite place in Dublin - so _naturally_ it was the one place I definitely wanted you to see."  
  
"I've just....I've never seen so many books," Emma sighed a soft laugh, allowed the literary pull of the room to envelop her. "Why are there cages around the shelves? Wait, this isn't a work release for prisoners type of place, is it?"  
  
"No, my love," he laughed, coaxing her toward the shelves. "Long, long ago, there were thieves of a different nature than myself who took great pleasure in stealing books. I suppose the wire enclosures were their solution to protecting their valuables."  
  
He peered at her in a way that suggested he wasn't _just_ discussing crimes on books or methods of protecting the _library's_ property. Yes, Killian Jones _always_ found a way with words.  
  
"Well, it's breathtaking, Killian. I-just....thank you."  
  
"You don't have to thank me just yet, Swan," he assured her, tilting his head toward the towering cases. "Come. I've something to show you."  
  
He set off in a purposeful way, dropping her hand momentarily to pursue the next part of his plan. Emma smiled as she remembered the first time she'd visited his house - the way she'd observed him eating in such a cautious manner despite the interrogation he was engaging her in. Yes, Killian Jones was nothing if not a persistent, dedicated planner.  
  
She followed him, watching him weave in and out of each alcove as he was clearly searching specifically. She couldn't even begin to dream of what text he was conspiring to enlighten her with. The library was littered with an avid reader or two as well as several studious souls who she assumed may be stopping off from the nearby university. She hardly noticed anyone else's presence - being near him had a way of doing that to her. Near the back of the library, he'd entered an unoccupied area, thumbing the covers for _something_....or more likely _someone_. His face lit up as he located it - a faded maroon cover with parchment like pages that he gripped carefully with both hands as he navigated his way back to where she stood observing.  
  
He raised a brief eyebrow at her before flipping through the pages - forward many and then back a few before turning it around to place it in her hands. The quick scan of romantic adjectives confirmed the weighted book to be of the Jane Austen variety. She turned back to the cover to check for accuracy in her speculation.  
  
 _Sense and Sensibility._ The title was fitting considering the fact that Killian had coerced her into a new perception of _both_ things when she'd fallen in love with him. She smirked sweetly, turning back to the smooth pages with a curiosity about what he had selected for her to read. She didn't have to hunt long as a bright blue pen had vandalized the page in a declaring way with a long underline tracing a particular section of words. She narrowed her eyes at the ink.  
  
 _Know your own happiness. You want nothing but patience - or give it a more fascinating name. Call it hope._  
  
She was perceptive enough when it came to Killian Jones to know that he was the vandal. He confirmed this notion by turning the remaining chapters until he reached the space just inside the back cover. She recognized the same shade of pen in the corner of the blank page.  
  
 **Here's to hope.  - Killian Jones, May of 2003**  
  
So he'd read it before - actually it appeared as if he'd _clung_ to it in every way possible. Noting the date and using her somewhat decent mental math skills, she realized that he had left his imprint on the book relatively close to the time he'd left Ireland the first time - when he had vacated in pursuit of a new start. Her eyes watered at the idea of him traversing the text as a lost teenage boy, a young man suddenly blindsided by the impact of a classic quote. Perhaps this was done in consistent fashion with a similar motive to the lines he scribbled on her coffee cup day after day. He wanted to move her the way he'd been moved once. He wanted her to _believe_ in something again. It was by sheer luck or _perhaps_ well executed determination that her something turned out to be _him_. Her eyes did nothing but give her away as a tear graced her cheek and a half smile teased her lips.  
  
"My tendency to innocently deface a book and steal a line or two started long before you, Emma Swan," he said, eyes bright as he swiped her tears away. "But you are _every_ reason to continue doing so."  
  
"I can't say I ever imagined being an inspiration for vandalism," she said through elated emotion, her watery eyes locking on his. "But I'm happy to be your muse, Jones."

"You're an advocate of the best kind, love," he winked, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love you, Emma."

"I don't know if I'll ever get tired of hearing you say that."

"Good," he laughed. "Because I don't think I'll tire of saying it any time in the foreseeable future."

"Well, as long as we're talking about statements that _might_ not ever get old....I love _you_ , Killian Jones."

He grinned in that wild way she loved. Emma's declarations of love were not scarce, but she didn't toss the word around like many people do. He reveled in the way she said it in that moment - the look on his face all the reassurance she needed and would ever need.  
  
He leaned in to kiss her forehead before leafing through a few more pages. His finger hovered the upside down typeface text, finally landing on what promised to be another likely relatable quote.  
  
 _I have come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is and always will be yours._  
  
The words fit perfectly, filling that long empty void in her heart as his warm hands enclosed around hers. He firmly closed the book between them, the blue of his eyes darkening in a loving and passionate manner that awakened a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. He moved forward with his hands cupping her face as he pressed his lips into hers with every emotion he had. Emma felt the gesture of a purest love capture her undivided attention as he deepened the kiss and the book tumbled to the ground. Her arms wrapped loosely around his neck as their movements synchronized and he began the familiar motion of tangling his fingers lazily in her hair. He pulled back after a moment and smiled sweetly against her mouth, his lips twitching adorably. As her forehead dropped against his and he encircled her waist with protective arms, only one unexpected thought crossed her mind.  
  
Perhaps Jane Austen wasn't really so bad after all.

###### 

Weeks later landed the pair of them in comfortable, thoughtful,  _fiery_ relationship - one that Emma never knew she wanted, but now refused to live without. She had never expected to end up endlessly in his arms after she had stumbled into the wood shop with her proposition a few months back. Ah, the mysterious ways of the world....or perhaps just the methods of a wonderful man. Emma tore the paper off her bulletin boards as she mused over the way Killian had won her over. She was, for once, totally okay with losing.  
  
She'd wondered what would happen when they returned from Dublin - what his renewed operation of the sailing company would mean.  
  
"So you won't be teaching anymore?"  
  
Her eyes had grown sad at the conclusion, something he immediately noticed and offered the condolence of a stunning Killian Jones grin.  
  
"Well, not full time," he explained, taking her hand as they sat on the wood of the dock, feet dangling in the water. "Hopper hired a new teacher to man the classroom and shop full time, but I will be helping out a few days a week - maybe even more until he gets the hang of things."  
  
Emma tried to hide her disappointment. It was like the end of an era - everything they had started at school. She'd figured this day would come. They had both kept things hidden until the details were worked out with Killian's new employment and she knew that neither of them would be keen on concealing things for longer than necessary. It wasn't exactly against the rules - this relationship they'd found themselves in - but it was a situation that would eventually require an explanation. They had finally decided that work and play _probably_ shouldn't mix on a daily basis and Emma settled for his part time assisting that allowed him to be her full time _boyfriend_ \- for lack of a more adult like word.  
  
"Hey, love," he said, nudging her shoulder playfully. "You needn't fear the schedule change. Interestingly enough, when you run your own company, work hours can get to be _quite_ flexible. In all actuality, you will probably see me more than you think. This new guy - something Booth is his name I think - doesn't seem to have a high functioning relationship with wood working just yet."  
  
She smiled at his reassurance. He was making adjustments and perhaps even a change or two, but the way he pulled her close reminded her again that Killian Jones wasn't going too far.

###### 

_Killian: It's called summer, love - and it can often be synonymous with taking a break._  
  
His text came in as she was gathering her things. The sass lighting up the screen made her heart flutter the way it always had.  
  
 _Emma: Are you one of those people that thinks teachers only work nine months out of the year?_  
  
 _Killian: Of course not, Swan. But I am one of those people that believes Friday nights should be reserved for pizza and Netflix with your significant other. In fact if you can wrap up your workaholic ways, I might even be willing to throw in an additional activity or two :)_  
  
 _Emma: Very generous of you, Killian. I suppose I could put off working for the remainder of the night since you are propositioning me in such a considerate and curious way._  
  
 _Killian: I figured of all people, you'd recognize a fair proposition when you read one. So now are you going to force me to sit out here waiting all night or are you going to come make my patience worth my while? :)_  
  
Of course he'd be outside waiting for her. She grinned, shaking her head as she jingled the keys in preparation of locking the door.  
  
 _Emma: Be right out ;)_  
  
The hallway was dark and Emma walked quickly - partially to get the _hell_ out of the building's evening creepiness but more so because she wanted to see the man on the other side of the text messages.  
  
There he was - leaned up against the driver's side door of the truck in _her_ parking spot. She supposed it was her own fault for not occupying it herself - she hadn't planned on needing to defend her territory when the school had been empty all afternoon - but she couldn't even attempt to be mad at the flirty act of rebellion. It didn't take long for her to realize that the red and black plaid shirt was the same one he'd been wearing the day they first met. Ah, the infuriating colleague turned wildly amazing date and even better boyfriend - that was the Killian Jones she _never_ expected.  
  
He raised his eyebrows playfully, taking only a split second to notice her as she moved toward him. He straightened, smiling genuinely as he pulled her into his embrace.  
  
"Glad to see you're still fighting the good fight when it comes to your parking endeavors, Jones."  
  
"Yeah, I thought you'd appreciate that," he smirked, leaning in to nuzzle her hair. "You know what they say about old habits, love."

"Mmm-hmm."

She'd barely retorted in any way when he drew her lips to his, pulling her into one of those passionate, fueled, don't-ever-stop-doing-this kind of kisses. He braced the tedious motions of her head with a gentle hand at the back of her neck and Emma flexed her fingers against the comfortable muscles of his chest. She breathed him in - taking in the moment in every way she could think of. He increased the depth of the kiss as his tongue swiped across hers slowly several times. She moved in closer - if that was even _possible_ \- wanting to feel the passion backing his _amazing_ efforts. She pulled back and he followed her, his teeth gently biting at her bottom lip. It was an action he knew would draw a teasing smile from her and it did. He closed his eyes, meeting her forehead with his own as he took a deep breath. Emma felt fazed - yeah, he tended to do that to her.

"How are you _real?"_

The words were out of her mouth before she even realized what she was saying. It didn't make any sense and she immediately wished she was flexible enough to insert the well earned foot into her mouth. He leaned back carefully, sifting through her eyes with his own intense gaze. That desire fueled shade of blue never ceased to mesmerize her. He blinked a few times in an unbelieving way and soon after, a lighthearted smirk fell on his swollen lips. She tilted her head, awaiting what would probably be a clever, heart stopping response.

"Emma," he began, his eyes hooded and dreamy. "I'm always going to be _real_ \- as real as you'd like me to be."

She grinned at his reminiscent response. Real was a word that would probably always linger between them.

"You know I'll hold you to that, right?"

"Absolutely," he said, pulling her close again. "I would definitely despair if you didn't."


	22. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh! Okay, here it is - the final piece :( it's so bittersweet haha. This is by the far the most fun I've ever had writing anything and I hope you have all enjoyed it as much as I have :) thank you so, so much for your kind/wonderful/amazing words and I hope this little chapter will wrap things up in a way you'll appreciate! As always, all rights/characters belong to OUAT.
> 
> *Now on to other adventures - stay tuned for a new story soon!

She'd said it once and then multiple times more on the drive over - sand under her toes in February was a _terrible_ idea. It was breezy and a type of cold that only Killian could convince her was 'not that bad, princess'.  
  
The year between now and the wonderfully failed ruse had blissfully blurred Emma's world and made her even more unable to resist his charm. A small wag of his eyebrows and one devastatingly handsome smile had done her in, landing her flexed, frigid feet on the sandy shores of Constitution Beach.  
  
Celebrations in Boston had called to them once again, but fortunately this time, there wouldn't be any pretending - but it's not really like there ever was. This _planned_ trip for Regina and Robin's engagement party gave them the a different chance - one to be in love since they'd let go of that fear. It was actually something they'd both learned to excel at - this whole throwing caution to the wind thing. It made her wonder why she ever doubted that she'd fall for him in the first place.  
  
Robin and Regina finding one another had been an additional happy occurrence that spiraled from Emma's coercion of Killian Jones, her wedding date of the _top_ notch variety. Their pair of friends had quite a whirlwind romance that led them to a strong desire to tie the knot much earlier than anyone expected. Apparently when it was right, it was right - and Emma had to commend them on their ability to take a leap or rather a big _jump_ of faith.  
  
Emma wasn't built for an act of endless love and beautiful commitment. Well, she didn't _initially_ think so - not up until about a month ago.

###### 

_"Emma?"_

_"Yes?"_

_She'd found herself in the ever entertaining task of babysitting Roland with simple Lego architecture that night while Robin took his fiancé out to for a late dinner reservation. Killian had gone to the store to purchase several types of ice cream - they had scheduled themselves for a second attempt at Peter Pan and he was obviously not above distracting Roland with something sweet while he atoned for his lack of explanation. The little boy was certainly not going to let this whole thing with the Jolly Roger go unless he was ployed carefully and strategically with sugar. Killian Jones was a bit of a clever opportunist._

_"Do you love Killian?"_

_Their ruse turned relationship had tumbled through a series of months, placing them quite close to the one year mark. Emma smiled softly. Roland had heard them say it on numerous occasions. It wasn't exactly a secret to anyone anymore - including the curly haired kid who had wiggled his way into her heart._

_"I do," Emma said sweetly. "Why do you ask?"_

_"Well, because of papa and Regina," he said, glancing up thoughtfully. "They love each other too."_

_"Of course they do," Emma replied with a distracted nod, digging through the endless bin of Legos her boyfriend kept for Roland. "That's why they are getting married, buddy."_

_"So when are you going to marry Killian?"_

_Upon hearing his question, Emma pressed down far too hard on a couple of blocks, successfully propelling one of them across the room as she blushed with astonishment. She scrambled over to get it as she attempted to pick up her jaw and her composure from the floor. Roland never failed to ask the difficult questions - even if they often were very unexpected._

_"Well, uh," she tried, returning to her seat adjacent to the little boy. "Marriage is a pretty big deal, Roland. It can be a very important decision for two people to make. It means that they love each other enough to be together forever."_

_"But you love Killian like that, right?"_

_Emma's breath hung heavy in the air. She hadn't ever asked herself any of this. Being wrapped up contently in an easy relationship with the man who had once been so complicated was enough for her. Yet as she saw the honesty in Roland's eyes, she wondered if maybe there could be more to this life with Killian Jones._

_"Yes," she all but sighed. "I-I suppose I do."_

_The words barely left her lips when Roland's whole demeanor shifted to that familiar form of excited - the one he reserved for seeing...._

_Oh, dammit._

_Emma turned around to see a devastatingly pure gaze radiating from Killian's eyes as he leaned in the door frame. He only tore his glance away when Roland tugged on the bag of bribery he'd procured from the market just up the street. He maneuvered it playfully out of the little boy's grip and onto the counter before he picked Roland up and slung him over his shoulder. He smiled at Emma despite Roland's intensely adorable laughter._  
  
 _"Well, my love - allow me to begin my demise by cuing up the DVD player downstairs," he said with a comical shake of his head. "Care to handle ice cream patrol?"_  
  
 _"We must be crazy for thinking it's a good idea to give this kid sugar."_  
  
 _Killian shrugged and laughed simply, winking at her as he started for the stairs. He finally dropped Roland back to his feet and allowed him a head start on their descent to the basement. Killian froze for a moment at the top of the stairs, turning to look curiously back at her. She had already set to work on doling out the contents of a carton into bowls, but when she felt that well known warmth of his gaze, she lifted her eyes to meet his. The blue had lightened visibly and that easy happiness seemed to fill his expression. She wasn't sure how long their eyes were locked like that, but she eventually pulled her vision away, shaking her head in a lighthearted manner._  
  
 _As she listened to the vague sound of his footsteps on the stairs, she couldn't help but wonder exactly how long he'd been eavesdropping from the doorway._

###### 

"Is your plan to help me contract hypothermia? That's not _exactly_ something I'd call a romantic gesture, Mr. Jones."

"While the thought of nursing you back to health over the course of those unused sick days I _know_   you have," he said, smirking adorably. "Perhaps I was just feeling nostalgic."

Of course. She had remembered it from the moment he pulled the truck into the harbor side parking lot. She'd brought him here the day they'd explored the corners of Emma Swan's Boston. The only difference was that it had been daylight and warmer - but last time, she didn't have Killian and his firm arms to keep her warm. Okay, _maybe_ it was a fair trade.

"Fortunately for you, my love," he held up two large blankets and a canvas bag that was holding some other part of his scheme. "I ventured here prepared."

She rolled her eyes as he took her hand and pulled her to the sandy surface, her ties curling at the slight chill. They didn't move too close to the water and he soon wove his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they walked. He even pressed a soft kiss on her forehead - a typical Killian Jones fashion that Emma didn't complain about. It wasn't too late fortunately. The party in all of it's congratulatory glory had been earlier that night and Killian - being oh so Killian, of course - had seen to it early on that they made sure to set aside time for the two of them later in the evening. Boston was _their_ place in a way and any reason that brought them to the city was plenty of motivation for him to plan some thoughtful outing. He'd always been that uncharacteristically caring man, but now it was in a way that she could permit herself to appreciate. For some reason, in instances such as this, snippets of Emma's conversation with Roland filled her mind.

She was so beyond thrilled for Robin and Regina that she'd tried her best to stow away those realizations all night. Yet she'd still seen it in everything he did that night - the way held her hand at dinner as he chatted excitedly about his business, the way he laughed in an almost paternal way at Roland's dessert antics, the way he drew his suit jacket over her shoulders on the way back to the truck after the festivities. She loved him.... _so_ much - in a way she didn't know was possible. Maybe she could do that for a while. Maybe she could love him for _longer_ than _just_ a while.

"Frostbite take over yet, love?"

"Not quite, but you're on limited time, Jones."

"Don't worry," he laughed, nudging her side teasingly. "It isn't much further now."

They scaled the unsteady ground up onto a small sandy hill, the grains shifting below them. He moved away from her for only a moment to ceremoniously spread the blanket on the cold ground. His movements were steady and flawless.

Emma studied his profile as he worked. She didn't know any adjectives to effectively describe the current blue of his eyes - which was a crazy revelation seeing as how she was an English _teacher_ and descriptive language was supposed to be her thing. His hair was tousled already, but the harbor's light breeze was making its own effort to mess it up further - something she didn't mind whatsoever. His shoulders were strong and they moved in that calculated manner  that Emma found to be completely seductive. He smiled knowingly when he caught her looking - okay, more like staring.

"See something you like, love?"

He'd taunted her with that statement many times - even long before she had ever admitted any attraction to him. Normally, she'd immediately retort with some sassy reply, but this time she took a moment to speculate. A little over a year ago, there was very little that she didn't completely loathe about Killian Jones - or at least that's what her conscious mind had made her believe. Everything had changed now and Emma found herself seeing things that she _loved_. Here was this man....that she completely _loved_.

Killian had challenged her. He'd changed her. He'd _fixed_ her.

"I can typically find a few things I don't mind looking at," she said with a smirk. "As if you don't already know that."

He winked at her and shook out one of the blankets - the one he knew she loved to nap with on his couch - and pulled it around her shoulders, rubbing her upper arms as he did so. The act successfully pulled her closer and the loving warmth she had become so accustomed to radiated around her. Emma felt her heart swell at the situation of being so comfortably happy in his arms. She couldn't figure out how it was possible that he could still do this to her after being together for much longer than they'd ever anticipated.

Her mind ran through the months - the selfless acts of love she'd experienced. He'd charmed her endlessly with the quotations of well known authors so often that it was a wonder that he hadn't used up every word ever written. They'd been sailing through hundreds of waves on the calm sea, traversing the coast line when the weather had grown warm enough. He'd escorted her to Walden Pond - a place nearby but one she'd never been to. Killian Jones, the ridiculously attentive and unrealistic man, had even taken her to Santa Barbara for her birthday to visit the Davidson Library. She'd been so puzzled about why until they met with a man he somehow knew who was spearheading a project preserving Thoreau's original works. Her favorite writer's curved, elegant penmanship was beautiful in a way that was only rivaled by the way Killian looked at her over the pages of Thoreau's historical journal pages. Honestly, if looks could melt you....

So why was she only _thinking_ of forever instead of _asking_ for it?

"Come here."

Killian was sitting on the blanket he'd spread across the barely unfrozen sand, sporadically glancing at her sweetly as he began to dig through the bag he'd brought along.

Emma caught the flecks of happiness in his gaze as she stood above him. He tugged on the bottom of the blanket hanging around her frame, asking her to move to the ground and into his arms. She couldn't find it in herself to resist. Leaning back against his chest and listening to the comfortable thud of his heartbeat, she made up her typically unsure mind. She loved him. She wasn't _ever_ going to _stop_ loving him. He'd likely laugh it off with that gentlemanly, I'm-all-about-traditional-methods attitude he had at times, but to hell with that. It was time to tell him - to _ask_.  
  
"What do you have there, Mr. Jones?"  
  
Emma had been on the brink of diving into a very uncharacteristic romantic declaration when she noticed a familiar something in his grasp. His hands had found themselves wrapped around that book - _her_ book. Those once unwelcome words of Jane Austen in the form of the book  _Emma_.  
  
"Never a bad time for some light reading, right, Swan?"  
  
She landed her vision on him, locking it firmly into place. His fingers fumbled a bit as he sifted through the pages, reaching an unsteady hand up to scratch behind his ear quickly. He bit his lip in concentration and she couldn't quite figure out what he was-  
  
"Marry me."  
  
The words intruded the air between them. A silence lingered as they both looked at one another - amazed and completely stunned by the question turned affectionate demand. It was only by an odd, unexpected turn of events, the words _weren't_ divested from Killian's mouth - but from Emma's.  
  
"Uh....e-excuse me, love?"  
  
 _God_. It had taken her roughly a year of being with this wonderful man, but she had finally defined the word 'idiot' with one uncontrolled outburst that she was actually somewhat struggling to regret. Well, if she was going to embarrass herself this way, she may as well lean into it.  
  
"I said," she spoke with a shaky breath. "Marry me."  
  
His eyebrows were raised in an unbelieving manner as his hands froze between the pages of the novel that had always said _so_ much. His mouth was slightly agape as he was clearly caught one hundred percent off guard. It felt like an eternity of him observing Emma's flushed cheeks and flexing his fingers against the book, but eventually he reacted - by laughing in a most amused way. Well, that's not really a response she had expected at all.  
  
"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"  
  
Emma furrowed her eyebrows - definitely not surprised with his reference to how a customary proposal went, but curious as to where he was headed with his reply.  
  
"Um, well, I just-"  
  
He cut her off with the most adorable grin, immediately opening the book to some page she assumed to be random and turning it toward her. As her eyes forced themselves downward, she quickly realized that it was a very strategically marked page - with _quite_ the bookmark.  
  
It was a ring. Oh.  _Oh_. Well, this was....this was not what she expected.  
  
She felt her eyes water slightly as she looked back up at him in pure shock. Only Emma could pick _one_ time to be decisive and botch his proposal in the process. She sighed a slight laugh - they truly were _so_ ridiculous at this.  
  
She was about to say something when he nodded back to the chosen text and the ring he'd clearly picked with a long study on his knowledge of her. Her dreamy, this-is-so-insane gaze found the highlighted words fast.

_It is sadly not every man's fate to marry the woman who loves him best._

He was asking. She lifted her view back to him - to Killian Jones, the man who was currently looking quite hopeful about his own fate.

" _Emma_."

She held the book steady, trying to prepare herself for the honest moment.

"I love you," he began, reaching over to take her hands in his in a cliched yet heart stopping way. "I never dreamed I'd love you like this, but I am so unbelievably glad that I do. I know I'm not great at coming up with my own words. Book have always been a way to explain just how much you mean to me because I know how much you love _them -_ and I've always hope they would lead you to love me-"

He took a deep breath, nervous in a manner that she'd rarely seen. She took the instance to squeeze his hand, begging him silently to continue.

"-I would rather spend the rest of my life being called a book thief than for you to go a day without knowing just how amazing you are and how much you've changed me. You make me a better person, but I thank my outlandish ego every _single_ day for being the arrogant _ass_ who stole your parking spot. I know that we've both had our share of loss in this life and that it's taken every ounce of stubborn persistence for us to be together, but I don't want to imagine my life without you for a second."

Emma felt her heart drop into her stomach as his breath hitched before he asked her the question - the _big_ one.

"Emma Swan," he said, a half smile turning on the corner of his lips. "Will you marry me?"

The word she wanted to say - to yell, to sob, to laugh - was annoyingly stuck in her throat. She was about to nod instead when she instantly formulated a more fitting idea. 

With shaking hands, she took the book and turned to a page she had dog-eared months ago. It was a line that had made her heart flutter and she hoped that now, it would say something before she finally said yes. She pointed to the first word, dragging his finger to the text.

_Mr. Knightley, if I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream._

A simple, knowing smile spread across his lips as he raised his eyebrows expectantly - obviously knowing her response, but still wanting with everything he had to hear her say it.

"Will that work okay for a yes?"

He broke into an ecstatic, toothy grin as his hand flew to the sides of her face, pulling her into a deep, elated type of kiss. His lips moved confidently - lovingly in a way she knew she wouldn't mind experiencing for the rest of her life. She allowed the moment to swallow her whole, feeling herself dissolve into this man who had somehow captured her and in the process, changed her entire life. He pulled back slowly, caressing her jawline as he sighed with a sweet laugh against her lips. Emma's own smile moved upward, twitching against his mouth in a way that prompted a slow additional kiss before he moved away.

"I just _know_ it, Swan," he said, quirking that trademark eyebrow up sarcastically as he pulled her into his embrace. "One day, you're just going to let me have my moment - seriously, just once."

"Hey! You don't have a monopoly on beachfront proposals," she said, slapping him playfully on the shoulder before leaning back to snuggle against him. "But in all fairness, only _we_ would be so _stupidly_ in sync that we'd end up competing over such a crucial proposition."

"Good point, but as long as we're talking in all fairness, I won this - fair and _square_."

"Although I asked _first_ , I guess I can let you have this one," she laughed. "But only because that's just the kind of selfless person I am, Mr. Jones."

He grinned wildly, allowing his fingers to crawl across the pages of the book to where the ring sat. He held it up in between them, examining it before doing the same to her. His eyes asked and she answered, slowly holding her hand out as he slid the band onto the desired place on her left finger.

She gave him that look - the one she had so many times before. It was the astonished glance that asked the age old question - _is this real?_

She didn't even have to say it anymore. He knew exactly what she needed.

"Yes," he whispered, smiling sweetly. "Always, love. _Always_."


	23. Epilogue 2.0 :]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this just came out of the blue, but I didn't think anyone who enjoyed this story would mind so I decided to share :] it all stemmed from the Jane Austen quote that you'll see used first. I ran across it while reading funny quotes about teachers with a colleague and I just couldn't help myself. So here's hoping that one day I will be able to leave these two alone haha! As always, I own nothing.

It wasn't fair honestly. No, actually it just plain old _sucked_. She'd spent a year married to this wonderfully infuriating and entertaining man so it didn't seem like too much to ask to be able to spend their anniversary together. Of course, things just weren't going to fall together so simply. She really shouldn't have been surprised - their relationship had never been so clear cut in black and white.

Killian had been disappointed as well, but it wasn't every day that CEO of ' _bloody_ Arendelle Royal Sailing' rolled into their little hometown because she was in need of a new fleet of sailboats for god knows what. Emma knew she shouldn't be jealous of Killian spending the day and probably evening wining and dining some other woman, but it was difficult given the fact that they should be celebrating their marriage with each other. She tried to remind herself that work had to come first when this kind of money was involved and she'd even encouraged him to go. He'd been so supportive of her taking all those night classes to get her master's degree - it was only fair that she should be the same kind of understanding.

As she rolled around in the sheets that were absent of her husband, she wondered why she'd been such a willing idiot. Their bedside alarm clock beamed with 4:38 in bright red numbers. It was a school day, but there was still no reason she should be up this early. There was only one reason Emma would ever open her eyes before the sun and that reason had staggered out the front door about thirty minutes ago to prepare for his big meeting. She sighed heavily, turning frustrated and annoyed back onto her back and staring at the ceiling. There was no point in laying there missing him. _May as well get up and arrive at school earlier than I ever should,_ she thought as her feet hit the floor.

She plodded to the bathroom door, her bare feet cold on the wood floor. Emma often rejoiced in the day she chose to move in with Killian in his little mansion - well, at least that's what she would continue to _insist_ it was. In all reality, it was a beautiful home - one he'd put hours of work and handcrafted furniture into. Yes, Killian Jones was nothing if not a dedicated and vigilant man. He'd proved that to her in the weeks he spent playing her fake significant other and even more so in the months when that role became very _real_.

She flipped on the light, squinting at its harsh invasion of her eyes. She rubbed the sleep from her green gaze only for it to settle on the bright red writing that had apparently appeared overnight on the bathroom mirror. She focused her vision, a smart smirk following almost instantly.

_I'd rather be a teacher at a school - and I can think of nothing worse - than be married to a man I did not like.  -Jane Austen_

A near laugh fell from her lips as she shook her head at her husband's literary wit that seemed to _never_ end. She shook her head as she realized that's why he'd not so stealthily stolen that whiteboard marker from her classroom during one of his after school visits. He had wiggled his eyebrows when he'd done so and she'd given him that playful glare without thinking twice about what he was up to. Well, it served it her right for ever believing he would have set his focus on work without plotting a sweet something for this milestone in their relationship. It made her wonder if there was more. Obviously there would be - this _was_ Killian after all.

She was grinning like a fool by the time she turned the shower on, careful to adjust the temperature so she could hopefully avoid fogging the mirror over. Peering back at the message once more, she noticed an object on the counter that hadn't caught her attention before. She reached for it, realizing that it was a frame but curious about what memory it held. There was a large red ribbon tied into a thick bow - _very_ crafty for her woodworking husband - and she realized as she ran her fingers over the beautifully stained wood that he'd made it. 

The picture inside was edited in black and white - and one she'd never seen before. Her mouth hung wide open and her eyes went bright as she took in the details that she had no idea had been captured by camera. It was the two of them at Mary Margaret and David's engagement party. It was their earliest endeavor at the fake dating game - and now even Emma couldn't deny just how much they hadn't needed to pretend. There were handfuls of people all around, crowding their table as the party appeared to be in full swing. Yet there the two of them were - eyes locked with his arm draped over the back of her chair. He was the picture of happy, his smile huge and oh so genuine as he stared at her. Emma looked as if the world around her was gone as she mused at him, probably - no, _definitely_ enthralled by his charm and accented tone.

God, even _then_ she'd been falling for him. Emma shook her head at the idea of ever being able to keep him at a distance - although now it was clear that she obviously _never_ wanted to. Her curiosity made her furrow her eyebrows as she flipped the frame over in search of her plagiarizing husband's words. She wasn't disappointed as the letters formed by black Sharpie lined the wood.

_They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.  -F. Scott Fitzgerald_

Another laugh slipped past her lips as she realized that he'd put quite a bit of thought into this - and the smile that lingered was due to her belief that he probably wasn't finished just yet. Pressing her fingers to her lips, she laid a simple kiss against the photograph. That _damn_ Killian Jones - he always seemed to find a way to start her day off right.

###### 

He'd had quite a few business meetings lately, a fact that had led Emma to having to procure her own coffee that past several mornings. It wasn't _that_ big of a deal - he was busy and she wasn't incapable of navigating her way to the diner. She'd been worried that she'd miss his mysterious marker messages, but he did what he could to make up for it by seducing her with literary text when he arrived home each night. The promise of such a thing was what allowed her to brave the ding of the bell above the diner door in a relatively great mood at such an early hour.

"Good morning, Emma," the little old woman behind the counter grinned as she set the cup down on the counter. "No charge today - Killian took care of it. Cookie and everything."

Emma arched an eyebrow as she eyed the to-go cup and the little bag containing the particular baked good that had started this whole thing. God, he _had_ really done this - he'd _planned_ this day. It made her heart flutter and melt simultaneously as she turned the cup around, trying to anticipate what she'd be reading.

_Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.  -Emily Dickinson_

Emma's smile was far too large and it earned a chuckle from the woman who'd just given her another piece of what was turning out to be Killian's day long surprise via book quotes. She should have expected no less, but it was still flattering in the best way to know that he'd strung together such thoughtful actions on a day where he couldn't be with her.

"Quite the romantic man you have there, Mrs. Jones."

"Yeah," Emma beamed, gathering the cup and cookie with a smile. "You have _no_ idea."

###### 

She pulled into the parking lot behind the school far too timely. She was rarely this early and the few scattered cars in random spaces reminded her that she was definitely following a different morning schedule. Unable to resist, she had sent him a quick text before she left the diner.

**Emma: Thank you for the coffee, you overly early riser. Your thoughtfulness is earning you points, but you still have some making up to do for leaving me far too soon this morning.**

He replied quickly and it was difficult to remember that text and driving weren't the best combination. She rounded the building, scoping out Killian's old spot. He didn't come in to help out at the school's shop much anymore, but when he did, she liked to taunt him by taking that parking place. He'd often get back at her by pulling his truck in on her side of the garage at home _just_ to spite her. Even now, their feud over parking property continued where possible. Noticing the empty spot, she began to turn in until she saw it - the third act of this drawn out play on words.

_Love is a madness. If thwarted, it develops quickly.  -Mark Twain_

There they were - the teasing words that reminded Emma of her weak attempt at once refusing Killian Jones, written very large in the brightest colors of sidewalk chalk.... _right_ on the asphalt of the parking space. Her mouth hung wide open and some semblance of a laugh escaped her lungs. This damn _man_ \- he had a day loaded with business meetings and a schedule packed with boat dealings, but he'd still found a way to best her.

Parking across the lot instead of over her husband's clever quote, she heard her phone ding a reminding chime. Ah yes, _there_ he was. He'd surely have something witty to say - he _always_ did.

**Killian: Top of the morning to you as well, my love. I feel terrible about my swift departure this morning and I'm quite looking forward to making it up to you any way I can.**

Emma smiled sweetly at the screen, a bright blush covering her cheeks. She was a fool for ever believing she wouldn't end up loving him - and now she was so beyond grateful she'd taken a chance to be wrong about him. It was the only time in her life she'd been glad to be proven incorrect.

**Emma: I love you. I miss you. Come home to me as soon as you can, okay?**

**Killian: I love you, Emma. The second I'm free, I'll be with you. Happy Anniversary, love.**

Now _that_ was the kind of text that would get her through the day without him - _well_ , hopefully.

###### 

Her arms were full of corrected essays - her students' interesting attempts at interpreting _Tuck Everlasting_ \- so it was a wonder she was able to swing open her classroom door without a sea of papers falling at her feet. Perhaps Killian's insane sense of balance was rubbing off on her. She flipped on the light to a whole new level of amazing - a sight that was outrageous, even by the heartwarming standards of Killian Jones. _Seriously?_ That was the only reaction she could emit at that instant.

There were bouquets - _eight_ of them. Each bundle of blossoms was tucked neatly into a glass vase and the flowers stood tall in bold arrangements. Lilies, roses, daisies, and even an iris or two. They were fragrant and so stunning that Emma's breath caught hard in her throat, her eyes blinking wildly. She set her stack of papers on a nearby table, her attention still stuck on the garden that was flourishing right inside her classroom. As she moved closer, her fingers reached out to touch the petals of a particular flower - stargazer lilies. 

 _Killian_ , she thought with a smile. He always brought those to her - usually when he was on some romantic streak or when he'd pissed her off royally. _Yes_ , even after the year they'd been in love, Killian still retained those two extremes when it came to taunting his wife.

As her smile grew and her fingers teased the smooth texture of the plants, she noticed it - a little white card with a number one written in that oh so _perfect_ handwriting of his. As she turned toward the other vases, she noticed similar notes left on each one. They were numbered as well and she had to roll her eyes at the elegant twists and turns of his scrawl, the digits written in that dark marker he was so fond of. Emma gave directions to others for a _living_ \- she _obviously_ knew to follow the order to piece together whatever he'd drafted on the cards. Walking along, she picked each note from the flower pick sticking out of the vase. Once she'd plucked the seventh one, she turned her attention to the last card. She expected a number eight naturally, but instead she was met with the words _'read me last'._ She was extremely careful to keep them in the appropriate order, sliding the final one to the back as she carried them to the counter near her window.

She arranged them by number in a long line and took a deep yet happy breath before she began to turn them over, one by one as she kept the last card in place. She pulled the cards together to create one of the sweetest lines from her favorite Shakespearean tragedy.

_For...she...had...eyes...and...chose...me._

Her eyes watered a bit as she gazed at the beautiful script he'd chosen. She _missed_ him - and she loved him _so_ much. Her fingers twitched a bit as she reached for the final card, holding it at eye level as she prepared to read.

_I realize that Othello didn't have much of a happy ending, but I'm glad our story does. I love you, Swan. -Killian_

She had to shake her head at what had now turned into a nickname of sorts - her maiden name wasn't exactly accurate seeing at how she'd taken his the day they tied the knot. He still called her Swan. _All_ the _time_. Probably _just_ because he could. _Adorable bastard_ , she grinned.

She pulled the cards close as she walked to the bulletin board behind her desk. Grinning like a fool, she pinned them up in the order she'd read them in - but with his personal message above. She considered herself a fan of Shakespeare, but no classic literature matched the honest and original words of her husband.

###### 

The day progressed as it should - wrapped up in the love, logic, and literature he'd borrowed from various sources. He had done it since the beginning, but it was always amazing to see the amount of work he went to. There were millions of memorable words written by countless classic writers, but he chose each quote with her in mind - doing all he could to see that each one fit the moment. He'd known her that well from the beginning. He knew now that books were always a way to her heart - as if he really _needed_ it.

She was in the process of listing vocabulary words on the board when she found his message listed in her plan book under the subject tab for language arts. It was small, but he'd managed to make it stand out against the dull page.

_I am in love and out of it I will not go.  -C.S. Lewis_

_Idiot_ , she thought with a smirk. It wasn't until she misspelled three different words on the whiteboard that she realized he was totally in her head with his swooning words.

###### 

She'd set out to check the date on her calendar in an effort to schedule a conference with a parent when she noticed he'd outlined the current day with an over-the-top, cliched, red markered heart. The graffiti he'd imposed surrounded a rather humorous yet sweet line.

_No lapse of moons can canker love, no matter what fickle minds may say.  -Lord Tennyson_

She'd had to take a moment to compose herself after she wrote the incorrect day on the form she was filling out. _Twice_.

###### 

She finally made it to the dismissal bell, flopping down in her chair as she took in the aromatic air created by the fresh floral arrangements lining the room. It had given her something to look at and to think about during the day while she hoped _he_ was thinking of _her_. Who was she kidding - of _course_ he was. If she'd been reminded of anything that day, it was that Killian Jones was quite obviously _always_ thinking about her.

"Emma!"

She was in the middle of looking over some test scores when one of her favorite little voices came from the doorway. She jerked her head up in the direction of the noise to see Roland - her favorite brown eyed, curly haired 'nephew' of sorts. God, she couldn't believe how big he was getting. It didn't stop him from running toward her and throwing his little arms tight around her neck. She would never tire of hugging that kid.

"Hey buddy! What on earth are you doing here?"

"I'm just here with papa," he replied, pointing to where Robin stood grinning in the doorway. " _I_ have something to give _you_."

"Hmmm," Emma mused, arching an eyebrow. "You do?"

"It would appear as if your oh so sentimental husband put Roland in charge of delivering some interesting words to you," Robin cut in, walking into the room and leaning against the counter. "I also figured I'd stop in and offer my congratulations."

"Well, _likewise_ , Mr. Loxsley. I heard you are adding to the band of little thieves."

"Ah, Swan," he chuckled. "If by 'thieves', you mean those of a small stature that seem to be keen on stealing your _heart_ \- then yes. You've been informed correctly."

Emma smiled as she stood to give him a wholehearted hug. Killian may have let it slip a few days previously that Robin and Regina were expecting a baby. She'd been interested to know why he'd mention such a thing, but it wasn't hard to figure out his motives. They'd talked about it many times before, but establishing a timeline for starting a family had always been pushed aside for one reason or another. As she watched Robin beam at her words, she realized that perhaps it was time to put that topic back on the table. She had seen Killian with Roland more times than she could ever count and it seemed only right for that man to be a father one day.

 _Yes....one day_ , she thought distractedly as a half smile turned up the corner of her lips.

"Here," Roland said suddenly, ripping her out of her scheming as he handed her a simple stationary card. "It's from Killian. I told him I would give it to you because he's busy."

"Yeah, he's got a lot going on today," Emma laughed, still entertained by Roland's bluntness. "What is it though?"

"It's....self explanatory," Robin replied before his son could add anything. "So with that, m'lady - _we_ best be going. Roland here thinks he's dragging me out for ice cream."

"I'll bet he does," Emma encouraged, nodding at Roland. "But I think it's only fair. He did Killian's bidding after all."

"That he did," Robin agreed, lifting Roland and slinging him over his shoulder. "We'll see you soon, Swan."

"Bye Emma!" 

Roland's entertained voice echoed slightly and Emma reveled in her good fortune. Any day where she ran into Roland was always instantly improved. They'd clicked from the start and she was strangely grateful for the bond she shared with the little boy.

Turning her attention to her suspicious husband's secret message, she realized quickly that it was only a short thought - but oh so inviting and _quite_ crafty.

_And now comes good sailing.  -Henry David Thoreau_

Oh, not so cryptic Killian. He was _obviously_ at the docks - and she wondered if he was actually there for work or perhaps for something far more appealing. She grabbed her jacket with an anxious smile, realizing that even her mediocre sense of balance couldn't support all of the flowers he'd left for her. She'd drag him back to help her bring them home soon - and maybe sooner that she'd initially thought. Shutting the light off with a quick swipe of her hand, she did her best to remember that running in the hallway was an act to be scolded for. She'd take the risk this time - it was time to find her clever husband and his literary hand.

###### 

She strolled up the docks, noting the presence of dozens of boats bobbing on the water just outside of the recently converted warehouse he'd turned into his new headquarters. She shook her head at the idea - he spent much more time working out on the water than in that building and she knew the structure was truly reserved for watching sports with Robin and for weekly boys' night poker games. Emma paused outside the door, wondering if he was actually inside or not before pushing on the glass to walk in. It was vacant - that much was obvious the second the bell on the entrance ceased to ring. It wasn't like him to leave the door unlocked.... _unless_ he was expecting someone. She was starting to think he was planning on her visit.

His conference room was unusually tidy for a man who'd jammed his schedule with clients all day. But that was Killian - neat freak ways and all. She didn't expect to hear such silence in a place that was supposed to be loud with business and deals for the majority of the day. Something was _definitely_ up.

She pushed the door open to his personal office, breathing in the scent of the man she loved as she entered. It was so reflective of her husband - sparse nautical decor, orderly files with specifically labeled documents, a brown and _very_ comfortable leather chair. She smirked to herself, running a finger across the cool surface as she tried not to remember the feel of it under her bare skin. That piece of furniture had seen some rather interesting nights.... _and_ lunch breaks. She bit her lip softly and shook her head, trying not to distract herself with intimate memories.

She had to laugh at the organization on his desk as she found perfect stacks of paper, paperclips and push pins in their own containers, and several Sharpies of various hues allocated by color with the caps on tight. Killian Jones and his obsessive preparedness - it never ceased to amaze Emma. As she was trying to formulate some ingenious words of her own in order to leave him a sassy little note, a recently remembered quote drifted to her mind. It was a long piece of text so she pulled it up on her phone fast, wanting to be sure to borrow the written word correctly. After a moment, she began to sift through her purse for something to write on. She found a receipt from the diner - it was decent enough she decided as she smoothed the paper. Emma quickly grabbed a blue Sharpie - yes, one that so _closely_ resembled his eyes - so she could scribble _her_ affections for once.

_Her heart sank into her shoes as she realized at last how much she wanted him. No matter what his past was, no matter what he had done. Which was not to say that she would ever let him know, but only that he moved her chemically more than anyone she had ever met, that all other men seemed pale beside him.  -F. Scott Fitzgerald_

She tucked it just under the picture he kept framed in carefully crafted wood on his desk. It was them - blissful and happy on their wedding day as the salty sea breeze blew gently through their embrace. Yeah, he'd _definitely_ find it there. She was grinning for the millionth time that day when she finally noticed the stationary card he'd already left for her - complete with the embossed text stating 'From the desk of Mr. Killian Jones, CEO and Co-Founder'. She flipped the card open, eager to see what the boss man had to say.

_Be with me always. Take any form. Drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you. I cannot live without my life and I cannot live without my soul.  -Emily Bronte_

Her eyes lit up humorously and she arched her eyebrows, lifting her line of sight to the window. She peered carefully through the glass as she moved closer to get a view of the boats. It took only a moment to find him - and to notice the way he was so admirably watching her walk _right_ into his plan. He stood confidently on the deck of his own vessel - the ever faithful _Jolly Roger_ \- as he appeared to be waiting for her. She crossed her arms across her chest, shaking her head with disbelief as their eyes locked. He gave her that beyond brilliant smile, one she had finally figured out to be reserved for her. He gave her an adorable little wave and she laughed, preparing to head outside when he suddenly gestured for her to wait as he lifted a finger in pause.

She could only imagine what he was up to as he knelt down, picking up a stack of several poster sized papers. He gazed at her with a challenging expression before he held the first one up for her to read.

_She is delightfully chaotic...._

The black ink against the starch white surface made it easy to read and she smirked, knowing exactly where these words were headed. He dropped the paper, exposing the second page.

_A beautiful mess...._

He seemed to find humor in that one and she arched an eyebrow at him, a gesture he could obviously see even from the distance separating them. The paper drifted to the deck of the boat and the next one became readable.

_Loving her is a splendid adventure.  -Steve Maraboli_

She nodded with approval, earning a wink from him as he held up the final message.

_I love you - now get out here and kiss me._

He was _awfully_ demanding with those markered words, but in this case, she'd oblige him. She nearly ran outside and her feet carried her the short distance up the boardwalk. He was waiting for her, his blue eyes growing darker when he finally saw her. 

"Hey sailor," she smiled, glancing up at him happily. "Or perhaps ' _pirate_ ' is more accurate what with all the thieving you've been doing in regards to literature."

"I'm okay with being a pirate," he laughed, hopping down from the deck with a thud as his feet hit the wood. "It _does_ seem as if I'd be rather skilled at pillaging or perhaps even plundering."

"Yeah, I'm sure you-"

She didn't get to finish as his lips cut her off with a searing passion, his hands flying to cup the sides of her face as his fingertips tickled her jaw. She leaned into him and grasped his biceps in an effort to escape melting - a threat that she faced all too often. Her mouth parted carefully and his tongue found hers, moving slowly and deliberately in a way that she'd surely be pondering all day. She wasn't sure how long they stood there, locked in a kiss she couldn't get enough of. He finally pulled back, his lips red and curving into a grin as he sighed sweetly.

"Hi."

"Hi _yourself_."

She loved when he used that greeting they'd repeated many times since she tracked him down at the airport. He smoothed her hair softly, tucking it behind her ear and placing a loving kiss on her forehead.

"Nice redeeming sentiment there, by the way," she teased as she complimented his use of the poster papers. "You needed a good one considering the fact that you stole Thoreau's cryptic thought on sailing - and it was the last thing he said. _Ever_."

"Yeah, I realized that after I'd already given the card to Roland," he laughed as he rested his chin on her head. "You'd be surprised - there haven't been many memorable lines written about my area of work. Perhaps I should change that, yeah?"

"It wouldn't be your worst idea," she replied, tilting her head from side to side. "I mean, it's probably about time that you start using your _own_ material."

He hummed something taunting, pulling her lips back to his with his fingers under her chin. It was gentler this time - a simple, tender kiss that was full of tantalizing promise. The fact was that it was a Killian Jones kiss....so she wasn't likely to complain at _all_.

"How long do you have before you need to get back to work?"

"Let's see," he breathed, nuzzling her nose as he feigned calculation. "How about I take off until....Monday morning?"

"But Killian....you have those meetings and-"

His smirk was a bit devilish, moving across his lips almost too quickly. Her jaw dropped only slightly as she finally saw what was happening.

"You don't _have_ meetings today, do you?"

"Of course not, Swan," he replied, running his hands along her back. "I only have one - with _you_."

"But Killian, you've been talking about this whole deal with Arendelle Sailing for weeks now-"

"Which is why I bumped up the meetings earlier this week," he explained. "I wanted to get it all sorted out before today. I wanted to be with my beautiful wife _today_ \- assuming you'll still have me?"

"I'll consider it," she laughed, suddenly flattered by his sweetness. "So you settled everything with them already?"

"Yep - all taken care of," he nodded with a smile. "The high and mighty CEO did invite me to accompany her and her higher ups on a night sail - she captains quite the vessel actually. It's more like a ship than a yacht, but naturally, I declined in lieu of a _much_ better offer."

"Ah," she mused. "So you gave up her ship for _me_ , huh?"

"I suppose you could say so," he agreed, caressing the space between her shoulder blades. "But don't despair, love - _we_ can have our own."

"Our own _ship?_ "

"Absolutely," he confirmed, gesturing toward the _Jolly Roger_ with a cocky grin. "This way, _m'lady_."

He took her arm in his, tucking it carefully as he leaned over to place another kiss on top of her head. She leaned against his shoulder as they walked toward his boat. This was a much more enticing way to spend the anniversary she'd initially thought she'd be alone for. It was just like him to be so stealthy yet so thoughtful. It was a sweet surprise - and she'd never tired of his little games if they kept ending this way.

"Ready to board, love?"

"Aye, aye, captain. But what are we-"

Her words became lost to the air as she observed the scene in front of her. He'd set up that familiar stack of pillows and a few warm blankets, the jacket she often borrowed from him _without_ asking laying just off to the side. There was a pizza box - one from the place they'd first eaten together when he'd tricked her onto his sailboat all that time ago. He'd brought a bottle of the wine they'd shared in Boston and she had to admire his skill in remembering the exact label. Lining the sides of the boat, there were books - _lots_ of books. She was still processing the whole view when he pulled her into him, her back relaxing against his chest as he wrapped her arms around her.

"The greatest fifty selection, Swan," he clarified, nodding toward the novels. "I'm not sure who that's according to, but the internet says it so it _must_ be true."

She laughed and he kissed her cheek, squeezing her a little tighter as he buried his face in her neck for a moment. She turned eventually and ran a loving hand through his dark, messy hair. He closed his eyes at her touch and she laid a gentle kiss on his lips.

"You did all this-" she said softly. "-for me?"

"Of course, my love," he replied, pressing his forehead to hers. "You know I'll always bring the books to you, darling - well, at least _parts_ of them....to some extent."

"I will expect no less then," she laughed, placing her hands on his chest. "So where do we start?"

"Wherever you want, love," he answered. "But keep in mind that you'll run into some Mark Twain as number thirteen on the list."

"Now _that_ doesn't sound accurate. Are you sure you've procured the real list, Mr. Jones?"

"Love," he began carefully, tangling his fingers in her hair. "Besides being well versed in book thieving, I'd like to believe I have an adept ability to recognize things that are _entirely_ real."

His eyes were sky blue, flecks of light and dark contrasting beautifully as he studied her. His words were honest as she found herself stuck between that single definite word and the man who loved her.

"Well then," he smiled. "It _must_ be real."

He matched her grin once more and as he pulled her lips back onto his, Emma resolved once more that this world of hers was _very_ real - and she wouldn't have it any other way.


	24. Epilogue 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was coaxed into writing this as a Christmas gift for my dear friend @optomisticgirl (and because we all know I am a sucker for this man and his Sharpie). Enjoy! :] as always, not my rights and not my characters!

“Killian? Are you here-”

Emma allowed the office door to click behind her as she stepped into the dim room. Her hand slid over the wall in search of the light switch, an action that was causing her to curse the lack of sufficient daylight hours winter time provided. She’d shown up early for lunch that day, milking what was left of her break from school while trying to surprise her sailboat selling husband.

Truthfully, she knew he was in a meeting - an afternoon of bantering negotiations with a Captain John or Silver or something like that. It was a big contract and she’d tried to act interested while still formulating a plan in her stealthy mind. She'd dressed carefully but fast, tugging on a warm coat before heading out the door with a slightly devious smile. Killian Jones was _always_ fun to astound.

“Nope,” she smirked, plopping down in the leather office chair next to his desk. “Definitely _not_ here.”

Emma swiveled from side to side in her seat for a moment, settling with the curious idea of being a trespasser in his little world of work. She allowed her waves of hair to press back against the headrest, adjusting her long black coat as her eyes took in the comfortable surroundings - the ones that were one hundred percent Killian. A subtle grin curved at her mouth as she propped her feet up on the desk with a sigh.

The decor was minimal, only a few knickknacks here and there and yes, they were things she’d taunted him about _many_ times. The bookshelves were filled with leatherbound texts and a few old shipping logs that added a strangely nostalgic touch to the room. There were several large windows lining the opposite wall and though the light was limited, the view of the frozen over harbor they offered was beautiful. The desk was one he’d made, a heavily crafted piece of dark walnut furniture that he had labored over meticulously in a way she had not been able to stop teasing him about. Running her fingertips over the smooth surface, her heart swelled slightly at display of his talent. He truly had done a magnificent job - not that she needed to remind him of _that_ again.

Though the craftsmanship was outstandingly detailed, it was the frames that graced the desk itself that made Emma’s smile expand further. It never ceased to surprise her that he'd taken the utmost care in cataloging their lives together when it came to pictures. Then again, it _was_ Killian - he took great care of _anything_ that involved her.

There was one from their journey across Ireland where they'd asked a stranger to snap a shot of them wandering the shores of some little bay she couldn't remember the name of. Okay, _maybe_ she could, but she preferred the way his voice pronounced it in that roguish tone. They endured the beautiful beach’s breeze longer than Emma had wanted to, but when he tugged gently on her scarf to pull her lips to his, she'd lost her uncanny ability to dispute his insistence.

There was another from a second trip they'd made to the Nolan family cabin. It had been warmer then and strutting around the premises in one of his new shirts she had borrowed without asking still earned her that same intrigued response from him. They'd spent hours reading on the porch while he massaged her feet correctly this time and splashed in the water with that same undeniably happy laughter, the sort she didn't even attempt to deny any longer. They'd even made proper use of the shower finally - thought _this_  time they opted for eliminating the drenched fabric shortly after triple checking for a locked door.

Emma’s favorite sat near the edge of his desk’s immaculate surface and she lit up upon spying it. There wasn't a single thing in that photograph she didn't appreciate - the twirling skirt of her beaded white dress, his typically crooked yet rather impressive tie, the elated grin on her face as she spun in circles with his hand guiding her. It had been a perfect day and an amazingly memorable night, one she replayed often during those instances where she tried to figure out how she'd ended up so lucky in love with the man who'd slid a wedding band onto her finger that day. She couldn't help the smirk on her face as she lifted the frame, flipping it over carefully in search of the words she _knew_ would be there.

_**Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. -Emily Brontë** _

The silly, romantic scribble he'd somehow created that lovely line with was done in black Sharpie. The marker had always been his weapon of choice and without having to glance around, Emma knew she'd find his stash somewhere close by - especially since she'd given him a multicolored pack of twenty three new ones for Christmas. She'd tried not to beam too much when he unwrapped them though his utterly charmed smirk and blushing cheeks made that difficult. Closing her eyes allowed her to still hear that amused laugh he'd let out when he flipped the package over to see her own cleverly commandeered quote.

_**Putting a pen to paper lights more fire than matches ever will. -Malcolm S. Forbes** _

Yes, to say that the battle lines between them had been drawn since the beginning was a _very_ literal fact. Only now, Emma found herself rather fond of the ink Killian continually left for her - although she tried not to encourage him _too_ much. God knows he didn't need it.

Spinning the chair around, she quickly spied the coffee mug he'd converted into a holding place for his writing tools. It was a solid black cup with a gold handle and the directions to _‘Work Like A Captain, Play Like A Pirate’_ painted along the side in bright red. She'd bought it for him on their honeymoon, adamant that he had to have such an item to compliment his swashbuckling and seaworthy type ways. Of course, the trinket had storage purposes now since Killian Jones didn't prefer the use of a typical coffee mug. No, her husband was _very_ partial to the blank slate of the disposable cup - and the reasons backing his choice hadn't changed a bit.

Pulling the mug into view, Emma spun it on wood of the desk as she eyed the colors. Counting them, she realized one was missing. With her teeth worrying her lower lip and a soft smile soon spreading across her face, it became apparent which marker had gone rogue. It was the light blue one - the one he'd used that very morning when he taunted her for the _millionth_ time with the words of the woman who'd started much of this, the offering left via paper on the side of her steaming mug.

_**I must learn to be content with being happier than I deserve. -Jane Austen** _

Rolling her eyes at the memory and the adoring glance he'd worn as she read it, Emma felt her heart flutter in that same way it always did after witnessing the way his handwriting borrowed famous lines. He was a thief of the best kind - crafty, thoughtful, and completely _hers_.

Her eyes studied as she tilted the mug once again, the markers shifting in the little container with a rattle before she noticed one she'd never thought twice about until this moment. She pulled it from the cup, holding it up with a curious smirk as her thoughts tumbled back a few years. As she ran her thumb along the gray covering of the pen, all the way back up to the bright green cap. The color matched the book title she'd been warring with that afternoon those several years before, a fact she hadn't put together until now, but it had no doubt been planned that way. Of _course_ it had.

###### 

_Emma had spent the majority of her already limited lunch break in a stubborn staring contest with the book across the table. It was rare yet annoying situations that popped up once in awhile, coaxing her into wondering what the hell she’d been thinking when she decided to become an English teacher. Tapping her fingertips carefully on the cover of the text, she traced the letters absentmindedly._

_She wasn’t exactly sure that Leaves of Grass and figuring out how to avoid the rather suggestive parts of the book was the best beginning point, but then again, she didn’t know if there was one when it came to this particular type of reading. She’d avoided this standoff with poetry for too long and now that midterms were quickly approaching, it was time to face the dreaded music - or perhaps just the world of figurative language. Whatever terms were appropriate for teaching preteen kids to appreciate the words of rhyming writers didn’t matter to Emma. It was going to be hell - just like it was every year._

_She’d been going back and forth on picking her poison in the form of which poem to start with when a barely audible chuckle caught her attention from the doorway to her left. She didn’t have to look to know who that particular amusement belonged to. Here we go, she thought with an eye roll._

_"Well that's a pleasant expression if I've ever seen one. Bloody hell, Swan - what'd that book ever do to you?"_

_Emma ceased her tapping fingers on the tabletop at the arrival of the chiding voice behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know who was making comments on her confrontation with the collection of words bound in the book just a reach away. She didn't have to look to confirm who owned that smug, sportive voice - but she wasn't about to skip doing so. Ignoring him had never served as anything but encouragement and that was the last thing she needed to offer Killian Jones or his enticing accent._

_"A little early in the day to be glaring down Walt here," he continued, snatching up the book and turning to check out the back while moving into view. "You know, Whitman took a whole lot of hell so you could hold his work in your hands. Perhaps gratitude is in order."_

_God, did he always have to look so effortlessly handsome? Emma tried not to give anything away as he leaned back against the nearby counter, but that man always had a way with standing seductively - as if such a thing was possible. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt, one that brought out the crystal color of his eyes in a way Emma didn’t really want to hinge on. The tie that was doing the work of a higher power was a dark navy color and it hung professionally around his neck, complete with a silver tie clip that was annoyingly pretentious. Well, at least that was the opinion she was going to pretend to have._

_One thing was for sure - a dressed up Killian Jones meant he’d been forced to act like an adult earlier that day. Oh, how fun it was going to be to taunt him about this one. Well, supposing she would actually get around to that. The studious manner of his stare and his well fitted slacks were certainly making it tough to focus._

_“It’s interesting that you happen to know so much about one of America’s greatest poets,” Emma smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Seeing as how you are neither American nor a poet yourself.”_

_“Aye, that I’m not,” Killian laughed, taking a careful sip of his coffee. “Astute observation on your part, Swan.”_

_“Ugh - what do you want, Jones? Don’t you have something to build? A grown up meeting to attend? A date with a hammer that wants to smash your thumb?”_

_“You certainly seem to find my line of work rather hostile sometimes, love,” he remarked, raising a trademark eyebrow. “I can assure you that being a carpenter is not necessarily a bad thing - particularly a charming one like meself.”_

_“Meself? Is that even a word?”_

_“Funny you should ask me,” he teased. “Aren’t you the English teacher here?”_

_Emma groaned loudly, not entertained by his career oriented taunting. He was always doing that - that whole leaving her breathless and furious thing. It was getting annoying. It was getting tempting._

_Wait - what? No._

_“So, onto transcendentalism, love?”_

_He raised one of his stupid eyebrows at her as he flipped through a few pages. Emma crossed her arms defiantly as she tried to ward off the innuendos she was sure she was about to encounter because yes, this was Killian Jones - and innuendos were always to be expected._

_“Just trying to teach the curriculum, Killian,” she retorted, narrowing her eyes. “Though I suppose that’s a concept a little foreign to you. Making birdhouses and wearing safety goggles isn’t exactly mandatory knowledge for junior high students.”_

_“Ah, Swan, you’re remarkably skilled at devaluing my job,” he grinned, running a hand along his jaw. “But I suppose my interest in your teaching is based on the fact that you’ve selected Walt here as a basis for educating the youth in the world of poetry. A bit bold, love - even for you.”_

_God, he was exasperating. What in the hell did he know about her being audacious of any sort?_

_“Hardly, Jones,” she groaned. “You don’t seem the type to know much about the poet of the common people.”_

_“Perhaps not, but I can understand that man’s affinity for-” he smirked wickedly. “-a suggestive theme.”_

_“Whatever, Killian….why don't you just-”_

_“Hmmm,” he started, moving dangerously closer with the book in hand. “I don’t suppose you’ve been through enough of these selections to know of this one.”_

_He turned the open text toward her, his eyes filled with an unknown fire as he pursed his lips. Emma squinted at the title of the poem as she tried to make out the words._

_“You see, Swan,” he said a little more teasingly than necessary. “Whitman’s always been known for being a bit overtly sensual - indecent even. I mean, any man who can illustrate a scene where ‘a woman waits for me, she contains all and none is lacking’ - well, I can buy into that.”_

_That arrogant, plagiarizing bastard. His expression shifted into something mischievous as Emma internally swatted at the butterflies in her stomach._

_“I suppose next you’re going to start seductively quoting ‘O Captain, My Captain’ next.”_

_“Only if you’d like me too, love.”_

_Her eyes latching onto the fierce blue suddenly simmering in his. She hated these staring contests they seemed to now regularly find themselves in, but she hated the fact that she was so insistent on winning them even more. Killian ran his tongue over his lower lip as he held the book firmly. Emma tried to make a mental note to avoid the faculty room for the foreseeable future, but the fog his expression was creating in her mind was making it nearly impossible to remember such things._

_“Hey Emma,” a voice cut in over the intercom, the familiar tone of one of the office secretaries. “You have a phone call. Do you want me to take a message?”_

_God, she’d never been so grateful for an out. Well, perhaps she wasn’t all that relieved. The look of disappointment crossing his features was fleeting, but it pulled at something inside of her that she wasn’t prepared for. There was no way in hell their regular bantering was something special to him - and it definitely wasn’t to her. Not one bit._

_“No, I’ll be right there,” she replied loudly, rising from her chair while centering her vision back on him once more. “I’d suggest you steer clear of Whitman though, Killian - I’d hate for you to meet that same fate as the lead sailor in his popular poem.”_

_“Hmmm,” Killian smiled, crossing his arms with nonchalance. “Is that a threat?”_

_“No,” Emma decided, pausing at the door to glare back at him with the hint of a smirk. “Just a warning.”_

_“Well, I appreciate the advisory,” he returned smugly. “One might almost say you care about my well being.”_

_“Hmmm,” she groaned, rolling her eyes before exiting the room. “You better keep dreaming, Jones.”_

_“Don't mind if I do.”_

_She barely heard his little quip before she rounded the corner to the office, fighting the blush on her cheeks as she pulled the phone up to her ear. The parent on the other end of the call was babbling on about the upcoming bake sale when Emma realized that in the process of telling off the annoying woodshop teacher, she’d left that damn book on the table. She cringed at her own ignorance as she nodded through the rest of the droning communication, hoping desperately that he and his flirty arrogance would be absent when she returned to retrieve the text._

_Emma entered the faculty room shortly after and very quietly, peering fast from side to side before slipping back to the location where she’d abandoned the book. She snatched it with a sigh and spun on her heel, trying to summon some enthusiasm about her upcoming venture into endless stanzas and miserable misinterpretations when she noticed it - a mysterious index card sticking out from between the pages. Curiosity cornered her and her fingers pulled the paper from the book with intrigue. The fluid motions of marker on the material told her the words left behind had been recently written. Trying not to admit to herself how brilliantly beautiful the penmanship was, Emma began to read as she walked - well, until the letters stopped her dead in her tracks._  


**What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life. -Walt Whitman**  


_The quote was penned in permanent marker - one that quickly became extremely infuriating as it beamed at her with a bright orange hue. She was perplexed a moment as she turned the card over in her grip while trying to figure out how a line from a long gone poet had ended up in her borrowed book. Her exploring eyes found the answer only a moment later when they fell to the boldly written ‘I suggest you start here, m’lady’ and the arrow that had been drawn to point at a title she should have been expecting. Yes, that one - O, Captain my stupid, annoying, infuriating Captain. Okay, perhaps she'd added a bit to that name._

_“Damn you, Jones,” she groaned as she slammed the book shut and headed for the library. Explaining this one to Ms. French, the far too nice school librarian, was going to be a whole other sort of hell._

###### 

Emma laughed out loud to herself, rolling the marker to the side as she got lost in the colors and moments of their past together. It was a series of loving lines she'd never expected and endless quotes that had drawn a million emotions from her, marking a path from annoyance to affection to a romance as cliche as the kind you only read about - and she'd read plenty when it came to her handsome husband.

She tapped the lid of the purple marker, recalling the way he'd used it for nearly a whole week during their courtship. He'd drawn words of affection from Thoreau and even Poe, proving that the rather less than optimistic writer wasn't _completely_ without a heart - even if his most famous work suggested he was. The text that was perhaps her favorite of the several days had been shockingly sweet, scratching at her walls in a way only Killian could.  


**We loved with a love that was more than love. -Edgar Allen Poe**  


She found red next, blushing at the way he'd once laid script to the curve of her hand in the finest point followed by several rounds of passion on their honeymoon. She didn't know why she'd _ever_ expect less preparation from a man who had stolen her heart by stealing quotes.  


**You are my greatest adventure. -Walt Disney**  


They were all there - pink for his notes at night, ones she'd find when searching for sleep even as he slumbered. She eventually stumbled around their dark and well designed home with slight expectation, always finding his lines of love on notes next to the hot cocoa mix. He never disappointed.  


**Let her sleep, for when she wakes, she will move mountains. -Napoleon Bonaparte**  


Emma’s fingers fumbled with the marker as she mused quietly at the way she taunted him the next morning, inquiring whether he was out to conquer insomnia or Europe. He’d taken adorable delight in her little quip, that devastatingly genuine smile truly complementing his sleepy blue eyes and mess of hair. He’d proven rather fast that gaining control of their close quarters was much more appealing and their bodies had tangled in the sheets for several victorious hours after.

She nearly laughed out loud as she found a bright orange one rattling around in the cup. If it had been the one he’d owned a few years ago, it would been _hers_ \- a true spoil of the war she liked to pretend she’d won.

###### 

_“Killian, stop-” Emma growled, trying to snatch the marker from his hand. “-writing on my stuff.”_

_“Make me.”_

_He was wearing that stupid, stupid grin that she’d grown to expect and perhaps love a little more than she should. It was ridiculous how she could look at that smile and still be so grateful that she’d chased him down at Logan International, seeing to it that they could enjoy normal dating scenes like this one - him visiting her mid-workday to vandalize her things._

_Yep - that was the man she’d inadvertently fallen in love with._

_“I will throw that stupid thing out the window if you don’t stop,” she assured him, nodding toward the skillfully moving pen._

_“Well, that would be littering, Swan,” he teased, his eyes never leaving the stack of post-it notes in his hand. “I think we both know you care far too much for my cunning wit to turn it into tossed aside trash.”_

_She sighed heavily, shaking her head at his shenanigans as she held back a smirk. She didn’t need to monitor him to know what he was doing. He’d been doing it since the night before when she’d forced him to sit on the couch and put his pile of clean socks into pairs._

_“Ah, the pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again,” he’d said dramatically, finding the mate to a set of black and gray striped ones. “As Dickens would say.”_

_“You can’t even fold laundry without swindling someone, can you?”_

_“Not a fan of Charles, love?”_

_“Meh,” she’d shrugged, eyeing a hole in a lone blue sock before glaring up at him. “Honestly, Killian - throw these away.”_

_“Don’t change the subject, Swan,” he had said, eyes wide as he held up a finger. “You mean to tell me as an English teacher that you do not like Charles Dickens?”_

_“I never said that,” she’d replied, narrowing her eyes before tossing a pair of red and white argyle ones at him. “I’m just indifferent - I get it. I just don’t prefer it.”_

_“Well,” he finally decided, reaching for her and pulling her onto his lap. “I guess we’ll have to change that.”_

_Emma had allowed the forgotten footwear to be scattered on the floor when he’d pushed her back gently on the carpet, beginning what she assumed to be his method of convincing. He’d been rather successful with his careful, calculated touch and caging manner of his hips many times in the past so it made sense that he’d try to spin that method in his favor - and yes, he did. Twice._

_She’d woken up a little later than usual, thankful to see him in his favorite jeans and a predictably plaid shirt that matched his eyes when she walked into the kitchen in search of her keys. He’d made coffee already, preparing some for her in a little to-go thermos he’d bought her a few weeks ago for when she slept over. She knew from the moment she saw it on the counter what his reasoning was - it had a chalkboard label on the side. She reached up to ruffle his already messy head of hair and the white dust on his fingers as he leaned in to kiss her gave him away._

_“Have a beautiful day, love,” he had smiled, humming softly as she pulled back. “See you for lunch?”_

_“You better,” she’d teased. “You promised grilled cheese and I’m holding you to it, Jones.”_

_“I’d expect no less,” he’d laughed, pinching her side. ‘I’ll see you then, darling.”_

_“Ah, a man of honor,” she had smiled. “Can’t wait.”_

_He couldn’t either apparently - because he’d started his little game on the side of her morning beverage. She’d forgotten about it until pulling into the parking lot at school, but once she remembered, she didn’t even need to think to know who he’d chosen to rip off during his sunrise scrawling._  


**Once a gentleman, always a gentleman. -Charles Dickens**  


_She’d rolled her eyes, glad he’d taken advantage of the cup so she’d have a secret little reason to smile all day. She should have instantly known that with Killian Jones, it would never be that simple._  


**I loved her against all reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. -Great Expectations**  


_So it began - his day long effort to win her heart for another author. Emma groaned in feigned annoyance as she reached up to change the date on her whiteboard, her heart pounding a little harder when her phone buzzed on the desk._  


**You have been the last dream of my soul. -A Tale of Two Cities**  


_It didn’t stop throughout much of the morning with the exception of the texts turning into emails. She had rolled her eyes as one popped up on her screen just as she was collecting tests from her second class of students._  


**All stratagems are fair in love. -David Copperfield**  


_She’d sent something back in retort about him beyond ridiculous and telling him to start worrying more about sailboats and less about stolen literature. It had earned her a response almost immediately. He was truly never going to give up their little game._  


_What can’t be cured must be endured. -The Pickwick Papers_  
  


_It was the long string of poetic phrases and pleasantries that led her to their brief battle over the bright orange Sharpie he’d been drawing over the little notes with. He held it out of her reach a moment as she strained to grab it._

_“You really should know by now, Swan-” he laughed, lowering the pen and handing it over. “-that I’m sufficiently skilled at navigating a marker.”_

_Emma was in the process of staring a hole through his head when he stuck the note to her nose, his grin contagious as he tucked her hair behind her ear. She plucked the note off her face as she reminded herself that this makeshift writer of a man was truly hers._

_“So, ‘true love believes everything, bears everything, and trust everything,’ huh,” Emma read aloud, sticking the note on his chest with a smirk. “Is that what this is then? True love?”_

_“Hmmm,” he mused, pressing his lips to her forehead as he encircled her waist. “Something like that.”_

###### 

They were all there - the memories, the moments, the markers. It was all part of this unexpected little happiness they’d built together. As she organized the colors in a rainbow pattern on the desk’s surface, she tried to figure out just how she’d been so completely won over by this man. It made her heart swell at the knowledge that it wasn’t just the pens that were permanent.

“Took you a little longer to locate my stash than I originally thought, love.”

Emma had been so wrapped up in reliving the ink that she hadn’t even heard the door open. Her guilty eyes shot up to meet his and she was glad to catch the humor in his stare. He tilted his head sideways in pretend confusion - Killian Jones _always_ knew when she was up to something.

“I knew you were dropping by for lunch, love, but if you were _really_ coming here just to steal my markers-” he teased, tossing some anchoring rope to the leather chair by the door before starting toward her. “-all you had to do was ask. I’m happy to share.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware of that,” she smirked, moving to lean on the front of his desk. “I know all about you and your generosity where those _damn_ Sharpies are concerned.”

He grinned that wild, handsome, I-love-you- _so_ -much smile that still made Emma’s heart go a million miles a second. He looked every bit the seaside entrepreneur, his pants well fitted and trailing down to his deep brown oxford shoes. His sweater was navy blue and soft wool while his coat was a bit of a lighter shade. He pulled off his scarf - the one Mary Margaret had made for him for the holidays - and brushed his hair out of his eyes with his hands clad in dark fingerless gloves. He probably needed it trimmed soon, but right now, it was windblown and messy and totally _him_. Emma liked it in more ways than just one.

“A pleasant surprise though, darling,” he said sweetly, dropping his hands to her waist. “What brings you by earlier than the typical lunch hour?”

His touch was still slightly cold as his bare fingertips grazed her hips and she shivered slightly. The laugh he offered was warm though and he reached to rest his hands at her back before kissing her tenderly. Emma knew if she had to, she could _live_ off those lips and the life they ignited in her. He’d always done that though - set her ablaze with just a _single_ gesture.

“I wanted to see you,” she stated with that obvious tone, pressing her hands carefully on his pink cheeks. “You’re freezing, Mr. Jones.”

“Winter on the water tends to get chilly, love,” he nodded, kissing the tip of her nose before removing his gloves and tossing them aside. “But lucky for you, I stashed that blanket here last time we went night sailing. Let me find it and we’ll warm right up.”

_Yeah we will,_ Emma thought silently as she fidgeted with the buttons on her coat. She’d set up this whole scheme in her mind not long ago when she was going through some old clothes in the closet, trying to decide if reorganization was a realistic resolution for the upcoming year. Her hands had found it before her mind processed what it was, but there buried under a stack of sweaters was his shirt. The shirt. _That_ shirt. Emma’s breath had caught hard in her throat as she ran her fingers over the plaid patterned flannel sleeves, remembering the way she’d worn it in their little contest of back and forth at the cabin the first time. She’d done it to taunt him, but she had seen that subtle hint of lust in his gaze when she sauntered past him in it while rolling up the sleeves. Emma held it up, fixing the buttons as she held it close and realized just how much it still smelled like him.

Yes, this shirt was _her_ weapon - and it was one she _definitely_ knew how to wield.

Undoing the fastenings on her jacket, it parted and fell to the ground quietly as he began his search for the comfy quilt. His back was toward her as she hopped up onto the wood furniture, her legs swinging back and forth as she observed her diligent husband - and perhaps the way he bent down because _that_ was cause enough for staring.

He hummed to himself while he looked, a little trait Emma found amusing since the first time she’d heard it. It was probably at that basketball game - the one where he’d surprised her with his blue Nikes and she had bonded with Roland and he’d done that breathless act of standing too close to her on the dim court afterward. Emma had been _very_ warm then - though the reason why did _not_ involve a winter blanket.

“Found it,” he announced, rising back to his feet as he unfolded it. “I wasn’t sure if it was actually in here or if I was going to have to go back down to the boat-”

His fingers froze as his lips parted, his eyes definitely coaxing forth a memory of her in the stolen shirt she was currently wearing. His smile was slow yet understanding as he tossed the blanket to the floor carefully.

“That’s….a nice shirt, Swan. But you know-” he started, walking toward her with a purpose and a smoldering smirk. “-what you’re doing _might_ be considered illegal.”

“Hmmm,” Emma replied, realizing he’d used nearly the exact words he had on that day and surprising herself that she’d remembered them. “ _That_ sounds like an accusation.” 

“Maybe it _is_ ,” he nodded, closing the space between them as he flipped the collar up on her borrowed flannel. “But I _have_ always liked the way this looked on you.”

“I was _always_ fairly aware of that,” she grinned, her fingers rising to toy with a button. “As much as you like it… _not_ on me?”

“Well,” he breathed, pressing his lips to hers as he met her wandering hand. “I suppose there’s a way we could find out.”

Emma smiled against his mouth, her hands lifting to rest at the back of his neck as he skillfully undid a button. His kiss was hot and deepened instantly as her head tilted sideways and his hand guided her jaw. The work he continued on undoing the trail of buttons that lined the middle of the shirt became hurried and slightly desperate. Finally working out the final one, his hand slid to caress her side and dance up her ribs. The moment his touch hit the lace lining the curve of her shoulder, he stopped with a soft groan.

“Bit of a vixen today, lass,” he commented, his teeth finding her lower lip as his trailed his fingers along the hem of the lingerie she’d concealed underneath. “Tempting a man with red while he’s at work is bad form.”

Her skin burned with passion and want as she remembered selecting that color with him in mind. The bra was a deep color, that lustful red he'd always loved her in, but with black straps that clung carefully to her shoulders. It plunged low and he traced the curve of the stitching with his tongue, nipping and pulling her closer as he went. Her mind spun when she thought of what those dark blue eyes would do once she was clad in nothing. _That_ was a look she would never tire of.

“Finding a way to torment me while I'm at work has always been fun for _you_ ,” she replied, reaching for his belt. “Figured it was time for me to do the same.”

“So you're claiming that you're _just_ figuring out how to do that now?”

“Maybe not,” Emma mumbled, her head dropping back as his palms held her back and his lips moved along her collarbone. “But it's good to know it’s this easy.”

“It's always been easy, love,” he admitted, sliding a strap from her shoulder with his teeth. “From the very start.”

He stopped for a moment, allowing the smoldering desire in his vision to simmer as he offered her that earnest expression he often did in times like this. He cupped the sides of her face and ran a thumb across her cheek to provoke a smile. She gave in, grinning like the lovesick fool she was and running her wandering fingers along the waist of his pants. His breath stuttered slightly. Emma couldn't help but love that she still had that sort of effect on him.

“You are so beautiful, Emma,” he told her softly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, tugging slowly at his sweater. “Now _show_ me.”

He smoldered at that, pulling the shirt from her shoulders and down her back. His lips followed the path of the vacating fabric with finesse and Emma yanked on his sweater, bringing it over his head and to the ground fast. The smirk on his face was instant when he slid her jeans from her legs to reveal matching lace, that same fiery red he was currently unclasping at her back.

“I like this - you visiting me at work,” he smiled as the rest of her clothing became scarce. “Going through my things…”

“You went through mine _first_ , Mr. Post It Note,” Emma retorted, flipping the button on his pants deftly. “So turnabout’s fair play, right?”

In a rather uncharacteristic move, Killian slid his hands to the desk and swiped his hand across the surface so the pile of color coded markers tumbled to the ground. He resumed his kiss and pulled Emma to the space opposite the picture frames, obviously willing to risk the loss of a pen or two but not the photographs encased in wood and glass.

“Come _here_ ,” he breathed, threading his fingers through her hair as she shoved his pants to join the rest of their discarded clothes. “I _missed_ you.”

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingernails scratching softly at the back of his scalp as she processed his sweet words and the feel of his skin against hers. He was always saying things like that - I miss you, I love you, I _want_ you. She never used to hope for that, but now, she _never_ wanted it to end.

“Killian,” she gasped, leaning back slightly when his beard scratched softly against her neck. “ _Please_.”

His hands gripped her legs, pulling her flush against him as he pushed forward. The slow drag of his length was torturous and he grinned at the way she bit her lip before fusing his lips back to hers, his hands on her hips as he moved a little faster. Emma didn’t know how he could still make her feel this way - how every move he made seemed to make her melt and want to combust all at once. He groaned as his teeth caressed her bottom lip, the sound constant proof that she affected him just the same.

“Emma, I…you… _just_ …”

Emma writhed under him, loving the way his tone grew needy and broken in moments like this. He was _wrecked_. He was _there_. He was _hers_.

“ _Killian_ ,” she moaned. “Don’t…stop. Please don’t ever… _stop_.”

“Never, love,” he promised, his efforts harder as he pulled her up to his chest. “God, _Emma_ …”

They dissolved into a series of moans and pleas, their volume uncontrolled and full of want as Emma let her body grind against his. His breath was ragged as he began to drag his hands down her lower back and coaxed her into moving quicker. He was close - _so_ close.

“ _Swan_ ….bloody hell, are you-”

“ _Yes_ ,” she all but cried, her fingertips pressed hard against his shoulder blades. “God… _yes_ …”

He didn’t waver, his stamina well practiced and constant as they both let go with a gasping exhale. His kiss was hard and full of that love she always lost herself in, their bodies clinging to one another as desire pulled them together. Emma felt herself slump against him after a moment, his hands moving up and down her back as they tried to find reality again.

“Still here, love?”

“Hmmm,” Emma offered, trying to find a reply. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said with that sweet, lazy smile. “I’m not going to be thrilled when you go back to school. I like things like this.”

“I do too,” Emma agreed, nuzzling his chest. “But it’s always back to the real world at some point I guess.”

“You’ve always seemed to like that word,” he laughed, lifting her carefully and wandering to the oversized chair they’d spent time in before. “I can’t say I blame you.”

Emma didn’t have to ask what he was referring to - she knew the four letter term they’d once argued over in a hotel room and finally accepted in the middle of a cup of coffee at the airport. Killian tugged the big blanket up over them as she snuggled into his side, content to enjoy their moment of bare skin and bodies sated. He placed a gentle kiss against her hair as she weaved her fingers through his, studying the way they locked perfectly.

“I do like real I guess,” she finally said, her head resting on his chest. “I like it with you.”

“And I with you, love,” he smirked as his hold on her tightened. “So let’s enjoy it for a while, yeah?”

“I guess we could do that,” Emma laughed, laying a kiss on the fingers he’d linked through hers. “Maybe even longer than a while?”

“I think that’s an even better idea,” he decided. “But I guess I don’t take as much convincing as _some_.”

Emma sighed, well aware of his continued teasing but choosing to ignore it in favor of relaxing in his arms. She knew eventually they'd be cleaning up the Sharpies that had fallen victim to their heated afternoon and that the pair of them would be back at work before either of them wanted, but that didn't matter. The real world would beckon them soon enough, but for now, she wasn’t about to give up a moment like this one - the sort that was most definitely a _beautiful_ sort of real.


End file.
